


Saudade

by did_you_reboot



Series: After Everything [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Hurt, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Reincarnation, idk slow burn probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/did_you_reboot/pseuds/did_you_reboot
Summary: The Mothercrystal struck him a deal. Help the Warrior of Light, and receive life in return — a paltry deal to work for Zodiark's mortal enemy.But the deal came with a gift of knowledge, given unconditionally:the Fourteenth's fragments yet lived.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shh don't think too hard about it.
> 
> Currently there aren't many character tags because I don't wanna tag a bunch and then have potential readers be disappointed lol

“_Hear... _”

From the darkness of the abyss, a voice called.

“_Feel… _”

Fragments at the precipice halted.

“_Think… _”

Pulled together, given form.

“_Witness me, Hades.” _

He opened his eyes and found himself aglow with the light of Hydaelyn.

From the abyss, he found his voice.

“Why?”

Oblivion was where he thought himself destined after the mortal blow from Hydaelyn’s champion. From the Warrior of Light.

He beheld Her form, and did not understand.

“_Hear me, servant of Zodiark. Thou hast done much to sow chaos and destruction, death and suffering in His name, and through thy transgressions thou hast earned oblivion.” _

From the abyss, an emotion took form.

Annoyance.

Had he been spared just to get lectured by Hydaelyn?

“And so I have. If you say I am destined for oblivion, then you and I are in agreement. Am I free to go? I’ve a lot of nothing to be doing,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“_To thee, servant of Zodiark, I offer a gift. _”

That was unexpected. 

“_I offer thee a second chance. Thy essence returned to a vessel, that thou might walk in my Light, unbound from the will of Zodiark. This is not a gift offered freely to Ascians...It is a gift I have the power to grant to thee, and thee alone. _”

It continued to be unexpected.

“Why is that?” he asked. The Mothercrystal’s offer was so unexpected that he forgot to sound nonchalant. What in this realm could be different about him that the Mothercrystal could even present this?

“_In thy battle with my Champion, thy essence was shattered. But in shattering you thus, my Champion’s blow tore from thee but a sliver of thy temperance. And underneath, the smallest of tethers to the Source and its Reflections formed. Though this bond is thin, I was afforded a chance to take hold and pull thy scattered soul into my Light.” _

A bond to the sundered shards. Disgusting.

“I’m sure this isn’t a gift given out of generosity. What, pray tell, is the catch?”

“_My Champion ails, and so hath my bond to her. I would beseech thee to aid my Champion and restore her bond, and thus wouldst thou give recompense for thy gift. _”

The sheer audacity of this crystal. Why would he ever agree to helping the Warrior of Light, especially after his consummate failure to kill her? Additionally: _ servant of her mortal enemy _ and all that.

“A life under your Light seems a poor payment for what you ask of me, Hydaelyn. I think I’d rather go to oblivion. I am _ tired _.”

“_There is another gift. I hath not the power to act on this knowledge, but I offer it to thee.” _

“What knowledge could you possibly offer me that would make your deal worth the trouble?”

He expected Hydaelyn wouldn’t tell him—he’d likely be forced to accept her terrible deal before she parted with the information.

“_Hearken, Hades. I offer this unconditionally, as my gift to thee.” _

He regarded Her in suspicion. A gift given freely?

_ “Athena’s fragments yet live.” _

* * *

The haze of the abyss was gone.

Instead, weight. 

Cold.

He could not open his eyes. He was not quite sure if he even possessed them.

“Ah!”

The sound of a voice. The thud of something heavy.

“I’ll keep watch on him, sir! You go fetch the Guard!”

He wanted to move. But he was tired. He was much too tired.

“Is he—is he alive?”

“He’s...he’s breathing.”

“Make ready. I’m going to turn him over.”

The push of hands. The world turned and quickly stopped, and the sensation in this physical form stirred.

A groan escaped him.

“Quickly, chain him!”

He felt hands on his right arm. His eyes fluttered open, trying to find this assailant but his was vision bleary and his eyelids too heavy to keep open. Another pair of hands quickly met his other arm, and moments later he felt cold around his wrists.

Muscles cried out as his arms were pulled apart. He let out another groan and tried to open his eyes once more.

A blurry, reddish shape stood over him.

“Emet-Selch?”

A word bubbled up from his throat unbidden as his eyes fell shut once more.

“Whhhat.”

Something cold pressed against his throat.

“_Emet-Selch! _”

He wanted to respond, but it seemed that that single word had spent what energy he had, and his consciousness slowly began fading.

“It’s no use, he won’t wake.”

“Why is he naked as his nameday?”

* * *

Hades opened his eyes.

This small act was as yet a struggle, but now he felt he had the strength to keep them open. His vision remained a blur, but soon his eyes found a measure of focus and he found himself laying on the floor of a small, windowless room. 

An _ empty _ small and windowless room.

He made to raise a hand to rub the bleariness from his eyes, but found himself unable—there was the _ clink _ of metal and a pull on his wrist. He turned his eyes toward his hand and found his wrist chained to the wall, and a glance to the other revealed the same. A look toward his feet explained the cold; he was laying on the floor shirtless, though some poor soul had thought fit to at least dress him in a pair of trousers.

Hades exhaled and closed his eyes in resignation. 

He was much too tired to care.

His mind drifted in and out of consciousness. With only silence as company, he knew not how long he lay there in a half-sleep. Truthfully, he’d not protest should this body give in and send him back to oblivion. He deserved it, besides. Even Hydaelyn agreed.

The thought gave him pause.

_ Hydaelyn agreed. _

Suddenly memories came rushing back: memories of an abyss, of his being pulling together, of the voice which woke his essence. Of the Mothercrystal, striking him a deal.

Of Hydaelyn, speaking Athena’s name.

It was as though these memories returned his strength, and the fog in his mind soon cleared. He thought back on the voices he’d heard when he was only just conscious; someone had addressed him as Emet-Selch so he supposed this body had the form of Solus zos Galvus, and that he was somewhere on the First. The voice had been familiar, but the memory was too tenuous to identify it. The Exarch, perhaps?

He tugged half-heartedly at the chains keeping his arms apart—a misguided attempt to prevent him from using his magicks, no doubt.

He paused a moment.

His heart all but stopped.

_ His magicks_.

A deep terror filled him, one he’d not felt since the End. 

He concentrated and found his aether was too distorted to find purchase on it. He could not teleport, nor break the chains, nor summon the smallest spark of flame from his fingers. He could feel the Creation magic within. But he could not grasp it.

He could not grasp it.

He tried once more—to grasp the magic of his people—to grasp the magic of the lost—

He could not grasp it.

Tears began pooling in his eyes—true tears that he’d not known for untold milennia. All that he was, all that he had ever been—the most cherished vestige of his life before Amaurot fell—though he knew his soul was stained with the blood of billions and billions, lesser they may be—that he deserved all this pain and more—still he thought:

_ Hydaelyn is cruel. _

Her final “gift,” given unconditionally. The knowledge that Athena’s fragments yet survive served only to hurt him in the deepest way, to tie his hands and bend him to her will. To refuse her deal would be to dissolve into oblivion knowing that Athena yet lived, and accepting the deal had left him at Hydaelyn’s mercy with no powers with which to search. 

How had Hydaelyn known that _ that _ name was the only one that could affect him so?

“_Hydaelyn! _ ” he screamed toward the heavens, straining against the chains. “_CURSE YOU, HYDAEYLN!” _

He knew there would be no answer, but his everything was locked away and his heart was fracturing and _ Athena’s fragments yet lived _and—

“_HYDAELYN, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” _ he howled, sobbing and yanking the chains in a tearful rage. “_HYDAELYN! _”

The door burst open.

Lahabrea’s puppet stood in the doorway, sword at the ready, while the Miqo’te Hades had plucked from the Lifestream stood behind, staff raised.

“Emet-Selch!”

Hades looked to them through his tears, regarding them for a moment before sighing in frustration and letting his limbs fall to the floor. He closed his eyes in resignation.

“Do with me what you will.”

There was a stunned silence. For once, the Scions were quiet.

“We thought you dead, Emet-Selch. How?” Lahabrea’s puppet demanded. 

“How indeed. A question I’d like the answer to myself.”

He heard the approach of boots, and felt the sharp edge of a blade press against his neck. With a frown of irritation, Hades opened his eyes. Thancred stood over him with the gunblade at his throat.

“No tricks or half-truths from you, Ascian. What are you doing here?”

Hades met Thancred’s gaze and pushed his neck against the blade. “Do it. Do it and send me back to oblivion and I’ll be out of all of our hair.”

Thancred’s eyes widened slightly—clearly thrown off by his words. “You think me a fool?” he hissed. 

“Is that even a question? Do you really think I would be lying here half-naked and chained to the wall if I had a choice?” He let his head relax against the floor and shut his eyes again. “Just kill me and get it over with. I bet you won’t even need your hero to do it for you this time.”

“Why were you making that ungodly racket about Hydaelyn?”

Hades let out a snort of amusement without opening his eyes. “Ascian, remember? Do keep up, Scion.”

Thancred clicked his tongue in irritation and was momentarily silent.

“Can we be sure this is Emet-Selch?” Thancred asked.

“Ah yes, I am but a shade of Emet-Selch. Best to kill me so I don’t cause trouble.” He hoped his tone irritating enough for Thancred to slit his throat and send him back to death.

“No, not a shade,” Y’shtola replied without missing a beat. “It’s hard to see the shape, but it’s him.” It sounded as though she meant to keep speaking, but hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“He...his aether is covered in Light.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one went particularly fast because the chapter I _really_ want to write is next
> 
> It's very unusual for me to be writing this fast  
I should still be deep in the groove at least through the weekend so uhhh pls enjoy while I continue to crap out some kind of story

The Scions had left him there on the floor.

After Y’shtola’s observation, they had quickly retreated from the room without another word. Spooked, perhaps, by the Light now entwined with his aether.

Hades would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the same.

He thought bitterly of the Mothercrystal, offering him this mockery of a life and then locking away his power—and Her sense of humor besides, leaving him naked in all his glory for some unfortunate souls to find. Had She purposefully deposited him right at the Scions’ feet, so that they might keep him in their control? Not that he could do anything to them, with his Creation magic locked away...

But still he hoped— 

In the dim of the room, he tried to reach the magic. To create a light.

He concentrated. He found nothing.

In one last effort, he snapped his fingers.

Nothing.

He tried to stifle the tears.

Time wore on—he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours—and he sometimes heard the sounds of footsteps outside the door, and the muffled sounds of deliberation. Argument. He wondered if the Scions were torn on what to do with him. But clearly they were content to leave him in chains whilst they decided his fate.

He supposed it was no more than he deserved.

When would their hero appear, he wondered? The Warrior of Light, who had killed him in a dramatic flash of aether. The invincible hero. The savior of them all. What sort of ailment could she have that required his intervention? Specifically his intervention, _with no powers_. Clearly Hydaelyn had been too weak and addled to properly think this through. Why did _anyone_ follow Her?

His body was beginning to ache. The chains had just enough give to allow his arms some movement, but not enough for him to even scratch his nose.

He lay there. 

His nose itched.

And after what felt like days with an itch in his face, he heard muffled voices at the door once more. 

It unlocked and slowly opened. After the untold time in the dim of the room, the sudden light from the doorway near blinded him and he let out a groan of discomfort.

“He’s still here.”

It was Lahabrea’s puppet again.

Hades exhaled through his teeth.

“Again, my dear Scions: if I _could_ be elsewhere, I would be,” he said irately, lifting his head as best he could and squinting disapprovingly at the silhouettes in the doorway.

“Did you just leave him like that this whole time?”

Ah. That voice.

So the illustrious Warrior of Light was finally here.

“We thought it best until you arrived,” came the Exarch’s voice.

Overhead lamps flickered on and he groaned, partly from the light and partly from the people he must now endure.

“I don’t suppose you could use that gunblade of yours to scratch my nose? It’s been itching for hours,” he said, looking expectantly at Thancred. His words had the desired effect, and he relished the incensed look on Thancred’s face. 

“Loosen the chains and let him sit,” said the Warrior of Light. And though she didn’t say it in so many words, her tone was clear: _I am here and I will kill him again if I have to._

Thancred looked doubtful but did not protest and made to loosen the chains. The Warrior of Light and Y’shtola watched Hades carefully as Thancred did his work, but if they thought they would get a dazzling display of his power, they would be sorely disappointed.

With the length of the chains now just enough to allow him to comfortably sit up, he pushed himself upright—immediately he shut his eyes in pain as it rippled through his entire body. Hydaelyn hadn’t even the courtesy to give him a vessel that wasn’t sore in every godsdamned corner of its form.

When the pain subsided, he finally looked back up to his captors at the door.

The Warrior of Light stood there at the forefront and he met her eyes.

He cried out at the shooting pain in his head—his eyes shut tight at the stabbing—like a knife in his brain, twisting—

The horrible pains faded, and he slowly opened an eye and made to say something clever so as to irritate Thancred— 

He was on his feet. His arms unbound.

But the room was different. This one was had walls of stone, and played host to a lone surly Hyur woman sitting on the edge of a cot. A prisoner, by the look of it. She, too, sat in near-darkness, her face illuminated only by the soft light coming through the barred metal doors. The Warrior of Light and her intrepid friends were gone, nowhere to be found.

Hades looked about in confusion; where had he gone, and what magicks had taken him there?

It wasn’t long until there was a loud clang as the door unlock and swung open. Four stood in the doorway, and a glance at the woman revealed a mixture of fear and resignation. The four in the doorway marched slowly in, and as they approached, their faces came into clarity. Hades arched his eyebrows at the group: the former Scion, in Ala Mhigan garb, a too-tall Hyur in full armor, Garlean perhaps, the blue Scion twin with the big mouth—

And the Warrior of Light, with a solemn look upon her face.

On closer inspection, she looked different. A measure younger, perhaps. A little less weary. A mite less scarred.

They took no notice of him, their attention fixed on the prisoner sitting on the cot.

Everything fell into place. With his other magicks out of reach, there was no other explanation.

The Echo, then. The power which marked Hydaelyn’s chosen. 

He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Well, well, well…So many visitors. Come to have a good laugh, have you?” said the woman with a bitter smile. “Or do you mean to put me out of my misery? To finish what you started? It’s about bloody time.”

“That’s not why we’re here, no,” the former Scion said. While she did not look sympathetic, there was no anger or hatred on her face.

Hades quickly lost interest in the scene. This woman who had evidently worked for the Empire and the probably-a-bit-Garlean Hyur were arguing about some tiresome something or other that didn’t concern him. He supposed, though, that in the end all their woes were tangentially his fault, given all he had done as Emperor of Garlemald.

He felt a small measure of guilt.

This confused him.

When the woman made a sound of pain, he took it as an opportunity to ignore his disconcerting feelings and instead turned his attention to her. She was breathing heavily and looking to the Warrior of Light in an interesting mixture of shock, awe, and pity.

“You...y-you...All that power...all that pain...It’s too much...Too much for anyone!”

The Warrior of Light looked on in silence. She had the strength and more.

“The things they’ve done to you. The lies, the betrayal, the endless fighting...yet there you stand, unbroken. How…? Why…?”

The Warrior of Light took a moment to consider her answer.

“For those I have lost. For those I can yet save.”

Hades wanted to roll his eyes at her trite words, but he didn’t. Something in him stopped.

This also confused him.

“Damn you...Damn you all…” Fordola said, bowing her head.

“You still have time, Fordola,” said the Scion, and as she spoke, the scene began blurring, pulling Hades away...

“Think about how you want to spend it.”

When he came to his senses he was back in the room, his wrists in shackles and the Scions watching him in a sort of shocked and horrified silence.

The Warrior of Light had knowing in her eyes, and she was first to speak.

“What did you see?”

His gut reaction was to hide the experience from them, but he immediately realized that it was no use; he couldn’t leave them with some cryptic quip to give them pause and then disappear into the rift. 

He was too tired, besides.

“Some Fordola woman in a cell. Can’t say I care for her—too tightly wound and noisy.”

The Scions exchanged concerned looks amongst themselves. They were silent a long while, weighing their options perhaps.

“My friend,” the Exarch began, stepping forward to the Warrior of Light. “Why don’t we have a meal with Emet-Selch? I should like to ask him a few questions.”

* * *

The Warrior of Light and the Exarch sat with him on the floor of the room, with Thancred guarding the closed door from the hallway. They had brought him a steel mug of water—to prevent him from breaking a glass and stabbing them, perhaps—and a bowl of grilled dodo and rice. They had also brought meals to match his, and he wondered if this was a courtesy to him.

The food sat untouched between them, as they sat there in a tense, overpowering silence.

“I suppose the most pressing question is _how_, Emet-Selch,” said the Exarch finally. It seemed he wore his hood down these days, and looked happier but quite a bit wearier.

Perhaps the bullet disagreed with him. 

“Like I said, that is a question I’d like the answer to myself,” Hades said. “I thought myself scattered into oblivion after you defeated me.”

There was a brief pause, before the Warrior of Light spoke up. “You spoke with Hydaelyn, didn’t you?” she asked. “Thancred said they caught you yelling about her.” 

It was his turn to pause. He suddenly felt self-conscious; he was still so utterly confused by Hydaelyn’s deal—by her request for him to _help_ the Warrior of Light—that he felt defensive of the information. _Him_, formerly a powerful Ascian, now weak and beholden to Hydaelyn…

“I did, but I don’t remember your Mother’s words,” he said, taking great care to sound nonchalant. “She made me an offer of some sort. Turns out it was a terrifically bad deal—get the Echo, but no magicks. I can only wonder what She offered me that I would agree.”

Both the Exarch and the Warrior of Light looked skeptical, but they did not press him on it further.

“Hydaelyn has a sense of humor, it seems,” Hades continued when he could no longer bear their stares and their silence. “I could only _just_ hear, but from the commotion it seemed you came upon me naked.”

“Indeed we did,” the Exarch said. He sounded calm as ever, but he looked ever so slightly flustered.

Hades carefully filed that information away for later.

“Lyna and I were to discuss a matter of the Crystarium Guard when we found you facedown on the floor,” the Exarch quickly continued. “I don’t know how you arrived there; you were certainly not summoned by me.”

“Oh dear, do people typically turn up naked when you summon them? Did the War—”

“What are you playing at, Emet-Selch?” the Warrior of Light interrupted, her eyes blazing, piercing into him. Her fists were clenched tightly, her body tensed—he wondered if she intended to strike him down. Again.

Hades shrugged and reached for his meal.

“I certainly wish I knew, hero.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shh don't think too hard about it
> 
> Also a big thank you to all the returning readers! I hope I do not disappoint <3
> 
> **Tiny stupid update sorry if it notifies you in email**:  
Imagine that he looks like this when he's sitting tho: [I drew this for y'all (was too lazy to draw chains who has time for that)](https://twitter.com/did_you_reboot/status/1173464109620183040)
> 
> **One more thing: gdi so that side story that just came out doesn’t quite match up with my shit lol**

Hades sat chained in his prison.

The Scions had moved him to a larger room the day after the Warrior of Light’s return to the First. His wrists were now shackled together by a small length of chain between, and no longer was he chained to the wall—though a heavy metal loop protruded on one side...just in case. The new prison also had a cot and chair—the cot for him, and the chair for whoever was to be his keeper. 

They were taking it in turns to sit in the room and observe him. Guard him. Question him. Each one of them was so utterly convinced that he had some elaborate plan for them that they took everything he said with suspicion. The Exarch continued to pester him about his meeting with Hydaelyn, and he continued to give the same _technically_-true answer: that Hydaelyn had offered him a deal, and that he had accepted it.

He wanted to feel irritated. He wanted to feel _bored_.

But he thought on what he had done over the eons and eons, and he quietly accepted his fate.

Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t take the opportunity to aggravate Thancred whenever it arose. It ended with Thancred quickly getting excused from Emet-Selch Duty indefinitely because his temper was much too volatile.

He learned a lot about them during this time; all he could do was observe them right back, and so he did. Alisaie, like Thancred, was surly and generally quiet in Hades’s presence, but sadly did not have the same fantastically exciting reactions that Thancred had. Her brother, the blue one, never stayed with Hades alone; he was not suited for guard duty, Alisaie had said.

Whenever Y’shtola was around, Hades knew he’d be in for hours of silence—she did not suffer him to speak, nor did she have anything to say to him. But he could tell by the intensity of her eyes that she was trying to make sense of his aether, and whether his claims of being powerless were true. 

Urianger was pleasant enough, and he often had some sort of heavy tome along to make efficient use of the time. He was surprisingly kind and sometimes sat beside Hades to afford him the chance to read along. It was he who first decided that Hades was harmless enough and had convinced the Scions that there wasn’t any need to chain him to the wall. And it was by Urianger’s suggestion—and the Warrior of Light’s insistence—that Hades was given a linen shirt to wear. He wondered if the Warrior of Light had tired of seeing the enormous, dark scar stretching across his abdomen in the shape of the great gaping hole she had torn in him.

The Warrior of Light’s visits were the most interesting.

He was still able to see aether on some level, and the first time he’d concentrated on the Warrior of Light, to see if he could make sense of Hydaelyn’s request...

Hydaelyn was not wrong. 

The Warrior of Light was sick.

Not that she seemed to notice. She was an Elezen who appeared hale and whole with all the more strength after her summary destruction of his essence and his plans. But underneath the physical, her aether raged; it swirled and undulated wildly in turmoil, and left unchecked would spell disaster for her. She’d not become a bloodthirsty beast as with the tainted Light of the Lightwardens, but if she allowed it to continue, she’d likely die. Hades puzzled over why Y’shtola hadn’t shown concern for her friend’s aetherial predicament, and wondered if she _did_ know and was quietly attempting to find a way to fix it.

She hadn’t had this particular problem even with the tainted Light. Something was different now.

“I want to ask you something,” the Warrior of Light said suddenly, a week after Hades’s unceremonious arrival. 

They had spent a bell in silence already, so he lifted his head slightly in interest.

“What is it?”

“Why do you look at me like that? Squinting at me,” she asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, merely curious.

Hades didn’t wish to give her any cause for alarm when he hadn’t a solution because then they would all be needlessly hassling him about it, and so gave a small shrug. 

“There isn’t much to look at in here, hero.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer, if a bit disapproving.

Another bell later, she spoke up again.

“I have another question, Emet-Selch.”

Hades wrinkled his nose slightly at the title. Here, powerless and chained after his failure to kill her and his failure to save his home and his failure to bring them back—

He no longer felt worthy of the title.

“Let us do away with titles, hero. My name is Hades.”

She recoiled slightly at this and raised a fist—Hades briefly wondered if she might beat him with the chair—but when he sat unmoving on the cot, she lowered her hand and slowly sat back.

“Then I insist you do the same, Hades,” she said, her eyes glinting. “I do have a name.”

“Oh _do_ you now? I thought you were given the name ‘Warrior of Light’ on your nameday. Silly me.” When she proved unimpressed by his quip, the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Very well, then. Annaiette so you shall be. Your question?”

“You’ve been quite cooperative since we found you. Why?” Annaiette asked. 

“I’m sure your dear friends presume that I am up to no good,” Hades said loftily. “Nobody seems to believe me when I say that my magicks have been taken.”

“Can you blame us? Truly?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“No.”

“And there it is. Why are you agreeing with me?” she asked doubtfully. “Don’t you have some something or other to say about how we are deficient and you are superior?”

Hades felt a mixture of amusement and pleasant surprise. “You are smarter than you let on. But no, no longer.”

“Is this remorse, then? You’ll receive no forgiveness from us.” Annaiette’s expression was steadfast, almost challenging.

“Nor do I ask for it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hmm,” was all she had to say.

The next time the Warrior of Light came to guard him—Annaiette, he reminded himself—she had with her a case of tools and a small pouch of materials. She gave him a cursory greeting as she took a seat, before rummaging about in the pouch and pulling out an unfinished...something, jewelry perhaps. Hades watched in fascination as she picked out tools from the case and got to work twisting a silvery wire around some sort of blue gemstone. He was so used to thinking of her as the _Warrior_ of Light—as She Who Ruined Carefully Made Plans—not the _Crafter_ of Light. That she had non-violent pastimes was quite the revelation.

It was surreal in a way, to watch her concentrate on her work. Though he caught the small glances toward him to check that he wasn’t about to cause trouble, she was otherwise engrossed in her task and he could see the tension in her muscles slowly melting away.

The aether within her yet raged, even as her body calmed.

“You’re squinting again,” Annaiette said without looking up from the pendant that had taken shape in her hands.

“Just trying to make sense of you.”

“Hm. In what way?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on her work.

Hades smirked. “I just hadn’t expected you to be a craftswoman. I thought endless battle to be your pastime.”

“I can’t fill _all_ of my time with killing Ascians. I’d get bored,” she said lightly, and Hades caught a faint smirk on her lips.

“Ah, of course you would.”

A small silence fell between them as she finished and held the pendant up to examine it from afar.

“It’s nice sometimes to just work with your hands.”

Hades yelped at the stabbing pain—clutched his head as it cut deeper—cursed Hydaelyn for the blasted Echo—

He opened his eyes.

His heart stopped.

An office. Light spilled into the room through the enormous window behind him.

He stood behind hooded figure—an Amaurotine—seated at a desk, their back to him.

He knew this place. He knew this room.

Was it his own memory, or—?

The tall double door at the entrance of the office creaked open slightly, and a masked head peered through.

“Conservator, the Architect is here to see you.”

“_Impossible_,” Hades breathed.

“Ah, please show him in,” said the person at the desk.

The Conservator.

_Impossible._

Hades felt himself go numb at the sight of his own masked self striding into the room.

“What brings you here, Emet-Selch? How can I help?” the Conservator asked when this Past Hades reached the desk. He seemed anxious, almost timid—and this was familiar—too familiar—

“I wanted to personally thank you for the congratulatory gift, Conservator,” said Past Hades. “It was quite generous of you, after all you did for me.”

The Conservator laughed. “Nonsense. All I did was recommend you; you won the title purely on your own merit. Stand tall, Emet-Selch! You’ve earned your place as the Architect.”

“You are too kind, Conservator.”

The Conservator laughed again. “Please, Architect, we are equals now. And I should like to think we are friends...You may call me by my true name: Athena.”

The sound of her name, spoken in her voice...Hades felt a deep ache in his heart.

“Ah, it is an honor,” Past Hades said—and though the mask obscured it, Hades knew there was hot flush on those cheeks. “Then you may do the same: my name is Hades.”

“It is likewise an honor,” said Athena.

“I did want to ask, Athena,” Past Hades began, the hesitation evident in his voice, “was the gift a Concept of your own?”

“Oh, no, it’s not a Concept,” she said. “Well, the packaging was. But the earrings I made myself. There’s something to be said about working with your hands. I enjoy it.”

Athena’s words brought clarity to the vision.

He was awash in the color of her soul—the hue had faded in his mind over the millenia, pushed down and buried so as not to dredge up memories of someone lost—here it was bright, unmistakable—

Hades felt his breath stop in his chest.

He had _seen_ that color. A brief flash of it while he had been embroiled with rage at his plan falling to pieces—

_Then...then..._

His mind flashed to his Ascian brethren, felled by the Warrior of Light—

There was another stab of the Echo, and the Conservator’s office fell away.

The sky was alight with the fiery red light of Dalamud as its shell fractured, the Eorzeans clashing with the Garleans under its flames—the Warrior of Light cutting soldiers down, ablaze with color—

Then she and Lahabrea, encircled with flames,  
Gaius van Baelsar unmoving on the ground—

Nabriales trapped in an auracite,  
flashes of color in the Warrior’s aether—

  


The Eye of Nidhogg,  
shattering Igeyorhm—

  
  


And finally  
Emet-Selch himself,

  
frenzied, 

  
desperate to kill her—

her soul coloring her killing blow—

  
  
  
  


_now painfully obvious_

  
  
  


_This whole time…_

_ ...This whole time…_

  


Hades found himself back in his prison—reeling—

“Hades? Are you all right?”

She glowed faintly with that hue

—the sight of her made his stomach turn—

“I’m—no—_no_—”

He felt his mind recoiling back—

Sinking in horror—in what he had done—_who_ he had done it to—

“Hades! What’s wrong? _Hades!_”

His mind drowning in the horror—the shame—

“...Hydaelyn, how did you…?”

She was near him now—

—he couldn’t bear the color—his hands were shaking—

“Hydaelyn what? Hades? _Emet-Selch!_”

It was all wrong

all of it

  


His body gave in

and he vomited on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **so basically: senpai noticed him**
> 
>   
I definitely will not be able to sustain this pace after this chapter. I was mostly going hard because I wanted to get as much written as I could before I need to start going beast mode on my Emet-Selch cosplay to finish most of it in time for Halloween :|


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much excitement in this one, sorry :(
> 
> if you haven't read the latest [Tales from the Shadows](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/special/tales_from_the_shadows/sidestory_04/#sidestory_04) then go read it right now dammit

_Above the skies of the burning world, the Warrior of Light fell to her knees, the Light overwhelming her—consuming her—_

_“Hah hah hah hah hah! You see! The Light will not be denied!”_

_She gasped—struggling to contain it—_

_“Surrender to your fate, and let the transformation take you!”_

_Her face screwed up in pain—_

_“Rise up in madness and fury! Devour the vermin infesting the land which is rightfully ours!”_

_The light exploded around her—_

_There was a deafening, guttural roar as a colossal white beast emerged—_

_The Lightwarden to end all Lightwardens curled its massive neck—_

_And the grotesque, monstrous face of the Conservator loomed over him, casting him in shadow—_

Hades awoke with a start, heart pounding.

There was no dying world. No Lightwarden.

No Conservator.

No Warrior of Light.

Only the room that was his prison.

He found himself laying on the cot with a fleece blanket thrown over him, and the chair where—_she_—had been sitting was conspicuously empty.

At the thought of _her_, it all came rushing back.

A sob escaped him as he curled into a ball, the horror and the guilt and the shame as a vice grip around his heart and lungs, and he clenched his fists over his eyes as though hiding his face under his hands could hide all his transgressions. He couldn’t get the hue of the Conservator’s soul out of his mind—the color which now stained the memories of everything that had come after the End—everything that the Ascians had done—everything that _he_ had done— 

The memory of the final days sprang unbidden in his mind, of the Convocation desperately trying to find a solution to save their people, of the Conservator furiously disagreeing with very idea of Zodiark, of her flagging struggle to talk the Speaker down from binding their people to a god, of her eyes turning to the Architect, her soul crying out to him for help…

But he had stayed silent.

Hot tears were soaking into his pillow, and for a fleeting moment, he wished that he had died without ever knowing.

What might have come to pass had the Conservator stayed? If the Convocation had been whole? Would Hydaelyn have ever emerged and Sundered the world? Would they have succeeded in restoring their world to what it once was?

Would she be at his side?

The ache in his entire body and soul only grew and he curled in tighter and tighter, his breath coming in rattling sobs, trying to hide from his own thoughts—

“Emet-Selch?”

Hades started and found the Exarch standing in the doorway holding a bowl and his staff, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion. Hastily wiping his face on a sleeve as best he could, Hades sat up on the cot and then immediately regretted it when a dizziness overcame him—he put a hand to his knee to steady himself as the world swayed underneath him.

“Are you all right?” the Exarch asked, though he cautiously kept his distance, his staff slightly raised.

“I’m—I’m fine,” Hades said once the dizziness passed. “Never better.”

The Exarch let out a small snort of amusement, before easing himself into the chair. “You would do well to thank Annaiette,” he said. “She cleaned you up.”

Hades felt his stomach clench at the mention of the Warrior of Light. 

“Ah. Duly noted.”

“We couldn’t think of anything we might have fed you that would have upset your stomach. Everything you ate, we ate as well,” the Exarch continued, tilting his head thoughtfully for a moment before fixing Hades with a knowing look. “But something tells me it wasn’t your meal that caused it.”

Hades breathed deep so as to quell the churning of his stomach.

“You’d not be wrong,” said Hades, averting his gaze.

“You’ve not been very forthcoming with us, Emet-Selch,” said the Exarch, his expression darkening slightly. “I suspect you know exactly what Hydaelyn has asked of you.”

Hades wanted to rage at being cornered, but…

He was so, so tired.

“You would—again—not be wrong.”

There was a tense silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Hades could see the Exarch’s tail swishing back and forth.

“If you will not divulge it, then I’m afraid I will have make my own conjectures,” the Exarch said when Hades made no move to speak. “_I_ believe Hydaelyn has sent you here to help Annaiette.”

“Hydaelyn has made a poor choice in saviors,” Hades said with a morose laugh. “I don’t see how I, former Ascian who made to make a Lightwarden of Her Champion and destroy all that she held dear, am meant to help in any productive manner.”

“On the contrary. I believe Hydaelyn chose for a reason,” said the Exarch. Hades could hear the smile in his voice. “Though I don’t know _why_, whatever you saw with the Echo _has_ helped.”

This gave Hades pause, and he looked up to the Exarch.

“What do you mean by ‘helped’?” he asked sharply. The smile faded from the Exarch’s face.

“Come now, Emet-Selch, I know you’ve seen it: her aether is in turmoil.” He closed his eyes, concern etched on his face. “Y’shtola noticed it first, naturally, and we’ve been trying to find a solution without adding to our friend’s many burdens. Fortunately, she appears completely unaware of what is happening to her, so we have that small comfort.”

So Hades had been right about Y’shtola after all.

“We have unfortunately found nothing that can soothe it—we’ve not seen such a phenomenon before.” The Exarch paused a few moments, gathering his thoughts, then opened his eyes and pointed to him. “That is, until earlier today. When you used the Echo.”

“What?”

The Exarch’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “This is quite unlike you, Emet-Selch. You’ve led us to believe you alone held all the answers,” he said, and Hades had a brief urge to put his fist through the Exarch’s face. Or another bullet.

“My friend’s aether has calmed somewhat,” the Exarch continued. “We don’t know if it will hold. But for now, we have hope.”

They fell silent. 

“Do you trust me, Exarch?” Hades asked, giving the Exarch a sidelong glance.

The Exarch’s ears fell flat against his head and he narrowed his eyes. “Not in the least,” he said without hesitation, the friendly veneer finally worn away.

“Then what, pray tell, is this ‘hope’?”

“Truly, I don’t like that it has come to this,” the Exarch said begrudgingly. “But Annaiette needs help, and if I must suffer your presence then it is a price I pay gladly.”

Hades almost wanted to laugh. The Exarch was such a soft man that his near-resentful tone was almost endearing.

“Your suffering may never cease, my dear Exarch, because I haven’t the slightest idea what I’ve done.”

The Exarch merely made a “hmm” sound and—clearly weary of his company—got to his feet to take his leave, leaving the bowl on the seat behind him.

“Exarch.” 

Hades met the Exarch’s eyes when he stopped in the doorway and silently looked to him over his shoulder.

“If I should I fix your hero, Exarch, do you think you’ll like what you find?” 

For a moment, the Exarch was silent, motionless.

“Annaiette will ever be a dear and treasured friend to me. There is nothing you could do to change that, Emet-Selch.”

With that, the Exarch stepped out and shut the door.

Hades exhaled slowly, slumping back against the wall.

He turned his thoughts over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of what “help” the Echo had done to soothe the raging of Annaiette’s aether. He had always known that her soul was one several times Rejoined—that it was familiar, that he had hoped but pushed it down—but to think it _had_ been that soul with that color right under his nose—

Hades exhaled again to center himself.

Had his earlier experience with the Echo pulled a part of her into alignment? Was that was why her color became clear, vibrant? It was curious, though, why only now she was presenting with this problem...Something changed that day in the Tempest, and he still wasn’t sure what. 

In the back of his mind he knew he’d never get an answer without _asking_ her, but he dreaded seeing her—seeing that color—again…

A thought occurred to Hades: while Hydaelyn had locked away his Creation magicks, he wondered if She permitted full use of the Echo—if She would allow him to reach in and realign Annaiette. While Hydaelyn’s Chosen knew not the full extent of the Echo, _he_ did, and the more he thought on this, the more he felt confident that _this_ was what the Echo had done, and _this_ was why Hydaelyn had forced his hand.

But to realign her aether in this way…

It would require her to bare her soul for him to see. 

* * *

After his talk with the Exarch, it appeared that the Scions were happy to leave him be. They only showed their faces to leave him a meal—it seemed that Urianger was the one who most often had the misfortune of that task—and they otherwise no longer wasted their time in his presence. All the better for him, as it allowed him the silence to think. 

The silence to sleep.

When the Warrior of Light didn’t return the day after his Echo incident, Hades wondered if she might be too disgusted with him to suffer his presence. But neither did she return the next day, nor the day after. Urianger informed him that she was occupied with some sort of situation which, to no one’s surprise, necessitated the specific assistance of the Warrior of Light. It was mind-boggling the incompetence of these fragmented people.

It wasn’t until three days after that the Warrior of Light returned.

There was a marked difference in her demeanor today. Where she generally had the relaxed air of a woman who knew she could demolish his shackled body, she now appeared troubled, distracted. Her aether, however, was as the Exarch had described: though it still churned—with that color, faintly glowing—there was a part which steadily flowed with her monumental strength.

“And here I thought you had forgotten about me,” Hades said lightly, when she took her seat without greeting him. When she didn’t respond, her eyes malms away, he continued. “I was informed you endured the ordeal of cleaning me up after I had an...unfortunate moment. Thank you.”

The sound of genuine gratitude on his tongue seemed to pull Annaiette back from wherever her mind had gone, and she looked to him, eyes wide in shock. He stifled the urge to laugh.

“I might be an Ascian, Annaiette, but I have _manners_. I know when gratitude is warranted.”

“You’re...welcome,” she said, the confusion on her face only growing. 

She looked away once more, and Hades could see her eyes darting back and forth, deep in thought.

“Hades.”

Annaiette looked grim, almost anguished, as though she was having difficulty speaking her words—speaking what she was about to say—

“Hades, why do I dream of Amaurot?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tales from the Shadows story came out this morning and I was just like "fuckin dammit" because I already wrote the previous chapter about just that thing andlskfjlkjsd
> 
> anyways it still mostly matches up. y'all will just have to pretend for me.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hades, why do I dream of Amaurot?”

His breath stopped.

He dared not hope, but…

“What do you mean?” Hades asked carefully. His voice calm. Measured. If he dared to speak more, he might empty his stomach again.

Annaiette met his gaze, and he could see the distress and frustration in her eyes. “Dreaming. You know what that is, I’m sure,” she said.

“Why don’t you start with _what_ you’re dreaming of,” Hades replied. He absently clutched his chain in one fist, his knuckles white.

“I can never remember when I wake, but it’s…” Annaiette paused, brow furrowed as she collected her thoughts. “For three nights it has been the same. I see gardens. Buildings. Spires. Sometimes they’re falling.”

Hades let his breath out, a pang of disappointment in his heart. After seeing what she did down in the Tempest, surely it was _those_ gardens and buildings and spires which filled her mind. “Your journey through my abode left its mark, I see. There is no shame in nightmares, Annaiette.”

Annaiette bristled at his words. “No, not nightmares. There is nothing nightmarish about these dreams,” she said, scowling. “There are people whose faces I can’t make out, people whose words I can’t hear. They talk to me, but I don’t know why.”

“Might you be unable to make out their faces because of their masks? Masks do have a reputation for obscuring them.”

“_You little—_” Annaiette muttered through her teeth in irritation. “I barely even see the masks; its as though my eyes can’t focus on their faces. But it’s the same people every time.”

Hades arched his eyebrows. “You just said you couldn’t make out their faces. How can you be confident they are the same?”

“They _feel_ the same. I don’t know how to explain it. Hythlodaeus is always there.”

His heart stopped. She shouldn’t know that name—she shouldn’t, unless—

But she seemed surprised in equal measure by her own words, and furrowed her brow in confusion. “Has it always been Hythlodaeus? Why is he always there…?” she murmured.

“How do you know that name?” he asked, more sharply than he intended.

“He—I met him in your Amaurot.”

“_What?_”

Annaiette looked rattled by his sudden outburst. “In your Amaurot. He was aware that he was a mere shade—that you might have made a mistake when you made him,” she said, clearly bewildered at his own confusion.

That the shade of Hythlodaeus had been aware the entire time…

He clenched the chain tighter, the metal digging into his palm.

“It’s Hythlodaeus and someone else in these dreams. Three times now…” Annaiette held her head in her hands, her fists balled up in frustration. “I can’t remember the face. But there are three of us. There is grass. They’re talking to me, and I can’t make out the words.”

Hades knew that moment. He knew many like it. 

That she had this fragmented moment in her mind…

The smallest sliver of hope was all he allowed himself.

“Your Mothercrystal has graciously allowed me one sort of magick,” said Hades. “One that would prove useful in sorting out these troublesome dreams of yours.”

“The Echo?” she asked incredulously.

“How quickly you forget that we Ascians understand the true extent of the Echo,” Hades said with a smirk. He may as well play it up in an attempt to hide the complete and utter anxiety threatening to consume him. “I just might be able to find the source of these..._dreams_...for you. If you allow it.”

Annaiette looked stricken, conflicted. She spoke of them as dreams but it was clear that she had _some_ notion that they were so much more.

“Should you need time to convene with the Scions to discuss their opinions about your personal affairs, then fortunately for you, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere in the foreseeable future.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him; to no great surprise, she held no small amount of distrust for him. No doubt she’d go to the Scions to inquire as to what they thought he was doing—she was too close to them to do this behind their backs, and too suspicious of him besides. He’d never be able to do what was necessary if she was not willing, so to attempt doing it by force was futile and would also likely result in death-by-Scion. He was counting on the Exarch to push her in the right direction; he wanted to save his _treasured friend_, after all.

Hades wondered what the Exarch was to her.

“Right,” said Annaiette. “Right…I’ll think about it.”

And with an air of unease and apprehension uncharacteristic of the Warrior of Light, Annaiette left him to his thoughts.

* * *

Annaiette did not return the next day.

Not that he expected her to; Hades would have been more surprised to see her back so soon. But this did nothing to help the swelling anxiety and dread within him, and he found himself unable to eat the meals that Urianger had brought him. If this worked—if there was enough of Athena in the rejoined fragments in Annaiette—then he could apologize for his grievous mistake—tell her that it would have never worked the way they wanted—

Hades blinked.

_ His grievous mistake._

It felt strange, unfamiliar. He turned the thought over in his mind.

_ It would have never worked the way they wanted_.

This, too, felt strange.

_His grievous mistake. _

_It would have never worked the way they wanted._

  
  


It hit him like a punch to the gut.

  


Doubt. He felt _doubt_.

Doubt about Zodiark.

For thousands and thousands of years, he had never once doubted his actions. All he and his brethren did was _right_ , all that they did was _correct_ , and they did not hesitate, for they were _right_ and _correct_. For thousands and thousands of years, so strong was their conviction that Zodiark was where true salvation lay.

For the first time in eons, he _doubted_.

He thought back to Hydaelyn. To Her offer. Her offer that he might walk in Her Light, unbound from the will of Zodiark.

Hades held his head in his hands, his fingers trembling.

Hydaelyn had said that the Warrior of Light’s killing blow tore a sliver of temperance from him. Had that been enough for Her to take hold and remove it? Bind it?

Or had she merely replaced it?

Were Hydaelyn’s Chosen tempered as he was to Zodiark? What did the Chosen believe in? He felt no compulsion to do anything in Her name, and in fact he would not be opposed to being struck down as Her enemy. All he wanted now was to help Annaiette—to help Athena. But this didn’t have the feeling of _right_ and _correct_; though Hydaelyn had beseeched him to help the Warrior of Light, in his heart he wanted to help for his own selfish reasons. To make things right, though he knew he deserved no such thing.

Or was that part of the tempering, too?

It felt as though his skin was crawling. 

He thought of Annaiette and what he had offered her. For him to sort out the memories—to realign her—he must use the Echo to join with her, not necessarily in body but certainly in soul. And though she must bare her soul for him to see, should she realize that _his_ would be just as accessible…

Athena would be disgusted by what she’d find.

* * *

The Exarch visited in the evening, Y’shtola and Urianger in tow. Their faces told Hades all that he needed to know.

“Annaiette has informed us of your offer to use the Echo and find the source of her dreams,” said the Exarch, his tail swishing back and forth.

“I offered, yes. And have you informed _her_ of her aetherial troubles?” Hades asked expectantly.

“She has been informed.”

“What does your use of the Echo entail, Emet-Selch?” Y’shtola interjected, her arms crossed. “What will become of Annaiette?”

“I will join with her aether, so that I might pull the errant parts of her back into place,” he explained. Predictably, they looked scandalized and immediately made to protest, but he held up a hand. “No need to fret, Scions. All this can only be done if Annaiette allows it.”

“That Annaiette must needs be merged with you…” the Exarch said, visibly tightening his fingers around the ever-present staff.

“A horrifying prospect to you, I’m sure,” Hades said with a smirk, and the Exarch narrowed his eyes. “But this would be in aether only. At present, I don’t have the power to merge in body, nor does your dear hero. So no need to look so _horrified_, Scions.”

“And how do we know you will be true to your word?” the Exarch asked, ears flat.

Hades gave a small shrug. “You won’t. I can say that I intend to help Annaiette until the end of time, but not one of you have believed a word I’ve said since I appeared. So I’ll say it, and you may draw your own conclusions: all I intend to do is help her.”

“And how long will this take?” Y’shtola asked.

“It’s hard to say. I’d estimate anywhere from a few moments to half a bell.” When they continued to look scandalized, Hades rolled his eyes. “I won’t be able to move while I do this. So if you should find yourselves concerned for your hero, then feel free to kill me at your leisure.”

“Then we will fetch you in the morning,” said the Exarch. “Be ready.”

“I’ll be here.”

Hades couldn’t sleep that night—the dread and anxiety within him kept his mind from drifting off to sleep, and by the time Thancred and Y’shtola came for him in the morning, he’d perhaps had a bell’s worth of half-sleep. 

“Get up, Ascian,” Thancred barked, resting his sword menacingly on his shoulder. Or at least he tried to be menacing; Hades did not feel menaced in the least and instead squinted in disapproval at the sudden bright light from the door.

“And good morning to you, too, my dear,” Hades yawned as he got to his feet and stretched his back, which let out a series of grotesque but immensely satisfying cracks. Thancred only scowled and gave him a warning push on the arm. 

“Move.”

They marched him barefoot out of the small wing that had been his prison for weeks now, and they emerged in some section of the Crystal Tower that he didn’t recognize. Not that he had paid much attention to the interior during the reign of the Allagan Empire. It wasn’t long until they reached their destination—the wide central round of the Tower at the base of the near endless staircase spiraling upwards.

A veritable welcome party stood in wait for him. The rest of the Scions and the Viera who was Captain of the Guard were gathered around the Warrior of Light and the Crystal Exarch, staring him down as Y’shtola and Thancred escorted him in.

“What an unexpected welcome,” said Hades as they approached, and he would have spread his arms with a flourish had his wrists not been chained together.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” said Alphinaud, clearly intending to sound _some_ sort of intimidating. Hades gave him a moment to think upon his words, and a moment later his face betrayed his realization. His sister rolled her eyes.

“Let us not take any longer than need be,” said the Exarch, nodding to Thancred.

Hades found himself pushed in front of Annaiette, who stood tall, defiant amid the raging of her aether. _That_ was the Warrior of Light he knew. 

The Scions and the Captain encircled them with their weapons drawn, leaving himself and the Warrior of Light at the center of a wide circle. The Crystal Exarch, however, did not fall back and instead took a few steps away from Annaiette, before raising a pistol to Hades and pointing it right at his chest. 

Hades arched an eyebrow and couldn’t help but laugh in amusement. The cheek of this man.

“No tricks, Emet-Selch, or I kill you where you stand,” said the Exarch, his expression dark.

“Me? Tricks? Perish the thought. I am only here to help the Warrior of Light. Take that how you will,” he said. 

“What do you need me to do?” Annaiette interrupted, shifting her weight restlessly.

Hades squared his shoulders and exhaled. “I am going to reach out to you with the Echo. It will be as a question, and if you allow it, then we proceed.”

She tilted her head slightly. “A question?”

“You’ll see what I mean in a moment.”

She nodded and squared her shoulders in turn.

Hades closed his eyes and searched for the power of the Echo—with his other magicks locked away, he had to dig far deeper than he was accustomed for the aether. But it was not difficult, and soon he felt himself rippling with its power.

When he opened his eyes, he found white wisps of aetherial energy emanating from his body, and he nearly lost hold on his concentration at the sight of it; he was so used to the dark purples of Zodiark that this bluish white gave him pause. Annaiette was equally shocked, and she watched wide-eyed as the white energies drifted toward her.

With his aether, he asked the question.

He felt hesitation and worry, but she answered in kind.

Hades let out a groan as the floodgates opened—the assault of her raging aether against his own, flashes of her color amid the storm. But he quickly composed himself and set about his task. Annaiette was fragmented—so very fragmented—and her soul was struggling to keep its shape. 

But here in her soul, it was clear as day: Athena is here.

_Athena is here_.

He felt his heart skip a beat, and he let out a slow, quivering breath.

Annaiette was fixed on the memories from her “dreams,” and it was these fragments that Hades was able to identify and pull in. When he took hold of them, rejoined them, he felt a familiarity that he had so dearly missed; but these feelings were marked by an ache in equal measure—not all the pieces of memory were present. They were incomplete, lacking. But they were enough, and he made to return to Annaiette’s soul the reconstituted memories—

But the deep anxiety had him hesitate. 

Would it not be better to leave some out…?

* * *

_Athena lay on the lawn and stretched her body out as far as it would go. She had been exceedingly busy for days, and she quite looked forward to her first carefree evening in quite a while._

_“Ah, you’re here earlier than I expected, my friend.”_

_She glanced to her side as the owner of the familiar voice lay beside her. “I could say the same for you, Hythlodaeus,” she said with a laugh._

_“Oh, it was a good day at the Bureau today,” Hythlodaeus said with the grin that signalled the coming of some sort of mischief. “Or perhaps I should say,_ I _had quite a good day, but our friend did not. But I brought something that may bring a smile to_ ███ _face.”_

_“When you say ‘smile,’ do you mean something exactly unlike a smile?”_

_Hythlodaeus only continued to grin. He held something up against the stars—a small object that looked like a child’s plaything._

_“I happened to run into a friend as I was leaving the Bureau and we got to talking about his latest endeavors. He was inspired by something he saw at Akademia Anyder, and so created this prototype. The final version is meant to be a mechanical automaton of sorts for children to play with.”_

_Athena took the object and examined it. It was an avian creature with an enormous beak—not ridiculously so, but enough that it was the creature’s defining feature. It had very severe eyes, and Athena couldn’t help but laugh as she handed it back to him._

_“I know exactly why you brought this here.”_

_“Truly I am glad to have you as my friend. Someone who understands my own heart.”_

_While they waited for_ █████ _to arrive, Hythlodaeus regaled her with the latest on rejected Concepts submitted at the Bureau. She loved to hear about them, and Hythlodaeus equally loved describing them—it was a constant source of entertainment, especially when_ █████ _got involved._

_She heard another arrive and looked up to find the_ ███ _mask of_ █████ _looking down at them, a sort of disapproving frown on_ ███ _lips. Athena laughed and tugged at the sleeves of_ ███ _robes, and_ ██ _reluctantly—or pretended to reluctantly—lay down beside her._

_“You certainly took your time,_ █████ _.”_

_“Unlike certain other people, I had actual work to finish up.”_

_Hythlodaeus brushed it off with a laugh. “I’ve brought you a gift,_ █████ _. A friend gave this prototype creation to me, and I found it quite charming.” He held the object up for_ █████ _to see, but_ ██ _seemed less than impressed._

_“Fascinating.”_

_“I quite like it. But the best thing about it is its face. Athena, doesn’t its look just like_ █████ _?”_

█████ _bristled beside Athena. _

_"Hythlodaeus—!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was like an awkward length so instead of splitting it into two chapters, it's just an extra long one. not that y'all are complaining, i'm sure :P
> 
> my brain was going into stream-of-consciousness mode at all the talking so apologies if this chapter's messier than usual
> 
> also:  
remember when lahabrea and igeyorhm voltron'd to fight you and still got rekt?


	6. Chapter 6

Annaiette’s soul didn’t so much accept the reconstituted memory as it hungrily tore it from his grasp, and a rivulet of her aether crashed against him before receding into its proper place. 

Hades let out a shuddering breath and released the aetherial bond. 

He dropped to his knees with a groan, gritting his teeth as he struggled to fight the dizziness overcoming him, to fight the blackness creeping in from the edge of his vision. He couldn’t remember the last time in the thousands of years since the End that he had been so thoroughly overwhelmed using any sort of magick, but here he was completely spent. Silently he cursed Hydaelyn for leaving him with so little to work with—he might have already reassembled what remained of Athena’s soul had he access to his full might. That he had the power to do what little he did was equally a relief and a frustration.

He looked up to see what sort of state Annaiette was in and found her breathing heavily, the Exarch holding her arm to steady her. She bore a confused sort of grimace, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to make sense of her thoughts. Her aether was improved; it still violently churned but the disturbance was perceptibly less, more so than the improvement following his earlier Echo incident. The faint glow of Athena’s hue was stronger now—still faint, but stronger…

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alisaie raise her weapon—the tip of her rapier slowly fixing on him, and he could see the aether gathering in her in preparation for magicks. But Y’shtola put up a warning hand.

“Hold, Alisaie. It’s all right,” she said as she approached the Warrior of Light. “How do you feel, Annaiette?”

“Fine. I’m—I’m fine,” said Annaiette, giving her head a shake as she straightened up. She noticed the concern on the Exarch’s face and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, G’raha Tia.”

“Full glad am I to hear that, my friend,” said the Exarch, his ears perking up as he visibly loosened in relief. 

Ah yes, of course he’d be relieved that his _treasured friend_ was alive and unharmed.

“It seems that Emet-Selch was true to his word,” Y’shtola said without trying to hide the distaste in her voice. “Annaiette’s aether is much improved.”

Hades tried to pull himself onto his feet but his body wouldn’t obey, and he grimaced and breathed deep in an attempt to stave off the swaying in his head. “That’s all I can manage. I can’t—” His vision was fading. “I—hhhh—Hydaelyn hasn’t—made this easy—”

The blackness was closing in, but he could see a silhouette of color reaching toward him—

“—_Athena_—”

Everything went dark, and Hades collapsed on the floor.

* * *

_“I thought I’d find you here, my friend.”_

_“...”_

_“Oh, don’t look at me so! I was merely passing through and thought to look for you.”_

_“...I’m sure. What do you need from me?”_

_“Nothing. Is it so odd to seek out one’s friends to enjoy their company?”_

_“What do you want, Hythlodaeus?”_

_“Fine, fine. I don’t have need of anything, and wish only to ask a question.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“When will you two stop dancing around each other? It’s quite exhausting to watch.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_“You know you can’t hide it from me, Hades.”_

_“...”_

_“You continue to be hopeless, my friend.”_

* * *

Hades slowly woke and found himself alone in his prison.

He raised a hand to rub the bleariness from his eyes and found the familiar weight of the chains was gone, with the thin, reddish blotches on his wrist as the only reminder of the shackles that had bound him for weeks. The lone chair in the room was pushed against the cot, and on it sat a tankard of water and a bowl of rice and some sort of grilled meat. In this moment he couldn’t stomach the thought of eating, but he sat up and reached for the tankard, wincing when it nearly slipped from his fingers. He was weak—weaker than he had been before…

When he had emptied the tankard he wearily lay back on the cot and pulled the blanket around him. He hadn’t the slightest idea how long he had been laying here, but it must have been a not-insignificant amount of time if his body was this feeble. The last time he had felt this way was when he had been the old and wizened Solus zos Galvus on the edge of death.

He lay there with eyes half closed and let out a sigh. He wondered how Annaiette fared, if aligning that portion of her had given rise to more “dreams.” 

Was it enough for her to remember?

But then he thought back to what he’d done. He’d done it without thinking, a sudden impulse wrought by his guilt: in her memory of those moments, the carefree ones shared between Athena, Hythlodaeus, and himself...he had blotted out his own face and name out of shame. 

  


_Did he_ or _didn’t he_ want her to remember?

  


When the door finally opened, he had been laying motionless for hours with half-lidded eyes. He glanced up to find Urianger in the doorway, holding a plate and tankard and looking to him in what might have been some measure of concern. “Ah, thou hast awakened,” said Urianger. He entered, reaching down to replace the bowl with the plate and paused when he found the bowl and its contents untouched. “I fear thou wilt waste away if thou continueth in this manner.”

He placed the plate and tankard on the chair and knelt down to peer at Hades. “Is there aught that ails thee in the wake of thine use of the Echo?” Urianger asked. “Thou hast slept for nearly two suns now, and for some suns prior hast thou faileth to eat thine proper fill.”

Hades looked to Urianger in a hazy confusion, puzzled by the genuine concern in Urianger’s voice.

“I’m not hungry,” was all he cared to say.

Urianger gave him a searching look but didn’t press the matter. “The Warrior of Light bid me watch over thee,” he said as he got to his feet. He gave Hades a small smile. “‘Twould reflect poorly upon me shouldst thou meet thine end under my care. Pray partake in this meal ere the Warrior of Light returns—she must needs attend a matter of import and will return on the morrow.”

Urianger took the bowl and empty tankard with him as he left. As Hades examined the plate that had been left in its place—an omelette of some sort—he wondered if Annaiette had beseeched Urianger to take care of him _before_ he had realigned her, or after. He knew the Warrior of Light was a bleeding heart, but—

So too was Athena.

Hades pushed himself upright, squinting against the nausea, and reached for the plate.

* * *

The Warrior of Light returned the following day, a bulging bag slung across her shoulders. After a cursory greeting, she dropped the bag to rummage through it.

“Take these,” she said, tossing a shirt and long coat onto the cot. A set of smallclothes and a pair of trousers soon followed, and finally a pair of leather boots and a belt. “These should fit you well enough—you’re about the same size as the merchant.”

Hades looked at the pile of clothing in confusion. They were simple in design but well-made, and looked to be brand-new besides. He gave her a questioning look. “And these are for?” 

Annaiette got to her feet and shouldered the now-empty bag. “Put those on—we’re going outside,” she said. “You’re turning into a husk and I’m tired of talking to you down here besides.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond before leaving the room.

He turned his gaze back on the pile of clothing and sat motionless for a moment; he wasn’t quite sure just what was happening, but he supposed anything was better than waiting to die in this room. His muscles had many opinions about moving, and he stifled a groan when he got to his feet and slowly straightened his back. He shrugged off his clothing and pulled the new ones on, and found that they did indeed fit relatively well—had he been his usual weight, they would have fit much better. Hydaelyn had already deposited him in the First leaner than he had been at death, but now he was even skinnier still...He had to buckle the belt as far as it would go to keep the trousers from sagging.

Annaiette was absently turning a knife over in her hands when he emerged from the room. For a moment he thought she intended to brandish it at him—tell him to behave himself or some such—but she merely stowed it and shouldered the greatsword leaning against the wall. Hades supposed there wasn’t enough left of him for her to feel the least bit threatened by his presence, least not with the massive sword that looked perfectly capable of cleaving him in two.

“Let’s be off then,” she said once she appraised his appearance and nodded in approval.

They walked in silence down the hallway leading to the central round of the Crystal Tower. Though Annaiette’s body appeared relaxed and her gait almost meandering, Hades saw with a pang that her soul flickered brighter every so often, and wondered if this trip to the outside was partly to discuss any new “dreams” that might be plaguing her nights. It was curious, too, that he was being allowed to leave the Tower at all; had his collapse and subsequent hibernation following the use of the Echo finally proven to the Scions that he was exactly as harmless as he appeared?

When they exited the Tower, Hades thought he might go blind from the sunlight, and as he followed Annaiette down the stairs he squinted at each step, desperately hoping he’d not trip and knock himself unconscious not ten yalms from the entrance of the Tower. But he made it to the bottom without mishap and found Annaiette patiently waiting for him.

“Bit bright for you, Hades?” she asked. The slightest hint of amusement crossed her face.

“I _have_ been in a windowless room since I arrived.”

“We’ll find a shady spot, then.”

She led him around the outside of the Rotunda for discretion, most like, but as they passed Hades caught a flash of Thancred on the upper level before he was obscured by the aetheryte. This _outing_ must be officially sanctioned by the Scions, he thought wryly, with Thancred likely there to ensure he didn’t backstab their hero or whatever else it was they thought he might be capable of doing with this enfeebled body. He wondered if any of the others were similarly following them; Y’shtola was almost certainly _not_, but perhaps Alisaie and her brother.

Maybe even the Crystal Exarch, out of concern for his friend.

They continued walking past the Rotunda and the vegetable gardens until finally Annaiette stopped under the gangway leading to a shield generator. Here, at the outermost edge of the Crystarium proper, they had a full view of the sky and where it met the mountains bordering the Crystarium. She glanced from Hades to the watchtower platform above the gangway as though reconsidering her plan, and instead led him to the parapet just underneath—inwardly he sighed in relief as climbing the stairs up the watchtower might have actually killed him. She stuck her sword upright in the grass and hopped over the parapet to take a seat, before looking over her shoulder at him expectantly. 

As he approached the edge to take a seat beside her, he glanced down at the drop from the parapet to the rocks far below and wondered if Annaiette meant to throw him off the edge.

“Urianger says you haven’t been eating,” she said when he slowly eased himself down beside her. She didn’t look at him and instead kept her eyes forward toward the mountains.

“I suppose not.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

Annaiette didn’t sound exactly _sympathetic_, but there was genuine concern in her words.

He could feel the pulsing of her soul beside him.

“Isn’t that an odd question to ask the man who tried to kill you and all your friends? And nearly did, I should add.”

She shrugged. “I’m not about to kill someone helpless without good reason.”

“Was attempting to turn you into a mindless beast not reason enough?” Hades asked incredulously.

“You’ve done horrible, unforgivable things. Allag. Garlemald. The Flood. Vauthry. So much suffering—so much pain—”

Annaiette hung her head and clenched her fists, her hands trembling.

“_But I still can’t do it_. At first, I wanted to so, so badly. It would be easy, right? Just run a blade across your throat. Slip a knife into your heart. But I can’t. Not when you’re like this. Not when you can't fight back.”

_Athena..._

Hades glanced to her and found her eyes on him, her brow furrowed with the same troubled uncertainty he had seen the first time she asked him about the dreams.

“And you _know_ something about me.”

He wasn’t sure how to even begin to answer, and when it was clear he had nothing to say, Annaiette exhaled and turned back to the mountains.

“Hythlodaeus said Ardbert and I were once the same person in his time. But he didn’t say who. I suppose I wouldn’t have known anyways.”

Hades felt his breath catch in his lungs. Even as a shade, Hythlodaeus knew…

“You said something the other day, Hades. Before you passed out.”

His mouth couldn’t make the word.

“Who is Athena?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god it's so hard to write urianger dialog >:(
> 
> anyway tl;dr: the warrior of light takes her ascian out for a walk


	7. Chapter 7

“Who is Athena?”

The question was as a vice grip around his heart, and he couldn’t find his voice.

“Hades?”

Annaiette had turned back to him, questioning. Concerned. 

Athena’s color faintly pulsing.

“Athena was...” Hades began. He didn’t know how much to tell her—how much was appropriate.

He looked down at the drop to the rocks below and very seriously considered throwing himself off the edge. 

“Athena was a close friend of Hythlodaeus,” Hades said offhandedly.

A silence fell between them as Annaiette considered his words. The dread and anxiety in the pit of his stomach was swelling, and though he hadn’t yet had anything to eat, he felt as though he was on the verge of vomiting. He could tell her—_he could tell her now_—

And yet he hesitated.

He looked down at the rocks below.

“A ‘close friend’ of Hythlodaeus,” said Annaiette doubtfully. Her soul flared brighter. “Why then, Hades, would you call out the name of _Hythlodaeus’s_ ‘close friend’?”

“Definitely too clever for your own good, hero,” he said with a smirk as he desperately struggled to keep himself from falling to pieces. “Hydaelyn hasn’t provided me the most suitable of vessels. I don’t have as fine control over the Echo as I’d like, and when I pulled your...dreams...together, some of my own memories surfaced. I thought I saw her.”

“Hmm, is that right?” Annaiette murmured. It was clear she didn’t believe him. 

But she didn’t seem to expect a response, and they sat there in silence with only the sun and the sky and the gentle breeze.

“The dreams are different now,” she said, her eyes forward. “A building falling. There’s a chasm. People screaming, running. I can’t make out what they’re saying. I think I’m helping. Somehow.”

Hades tried to think of what this particular memory might be. It could easily be a nightmare of the nightmare he had wrought for them in the Tempest, but the beasts and fire should have at least merited a mention. No, this must be something else—something from Athena’s memories...

“These aren’t just dreams, are they?”

It wasn’t a question.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“No.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked out to the sky.

“Y’shtola said I would die if my aether wasn’t sorted out,” she said. “Is that true? Will I actually die, or will I turn into a beast?”

Hades watched the churn of her aether and exhaled. “She’s not wrong. Your soul won’t hold if you allow it to continue.”

“And Hydaelyn asked you to mend it, did She?”

“She did.”

Annaiette bowed her head, silently wringing her hands. Her lips twitched as though she had more she wanted to say but she didn’t speak, and Hades thought he saw the glint of a tear falling from her cheek as her soul seemed to withdraw upon itself. The sight of it made his heart ache, and he wondered what was affecting the Warrior of Light so; was the stress of constant impending death getting to her? Or were the dreams more troubling than she let on? Was the idea of _him_ mending her aether somehow distressing?

Hades was struck by the urge to put his arms around her, to hold her tightly, but the urge startled him and he dared not move. He merely sat there, trying his damndest to stay coherent when it felt as though his mind was separating from his body.

“Tell me about Athena, Hades,” she said, turning her eyes up to the sky. “I like Hythlodaeus. If they were friends then I hope Athena was nice.”

_Athena was powerful—_

_ And generous—_

_ And beautiful—_

_ And so, so kind—_

“She was very kind, yes,” was all Hades could say.

_ He could tell her—he could tell her right now—_

But there was something odd in the Warrior of Light’s words.

“Is there something bothering you, he—Annaiette?” he asked. 

  
  


He wanted to reach out to her—to hold her—

But he stayed his hand.

  
  


“Why would you think that?” Annaiette laughed. Tears were rolling down her face now.

He felt her aether thrashing wildly beside him.

Hades wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself—the Warrior of Light’s tears were unexpected, and he hadn’t the slightest idea what had gone wrong. If he’d access to his magicks, he would have created a handkerchief; as it was, he offered her the tail of his coat.

She waved it away with another laugh. “Happens all the time. It’s that time of the year. Pollen and the like,” she said lamely, wiping her face with the inside of her coat.

It was most certainly _not_ that time of the year.

_Hold her_ — _look at her soul—_   
_Hold her, damn you_—

“Is that so,” said Hades.

He didn’t hold her.

“How bothersome it must be to have allergies as the Warrior of Light,” he continued, smirking. She gave him a cheeky smile before turning back to the sky. 

“Alas, it is a burden I must bear.”

Together they sat in silence in the breeze.

* * *

Hades lay sleepily on the floor of the storage room with a book as his pillow.

Following his and Annaiette’s uneventful jaunt outside, the Scions had judged him worthy of leaving his prison and afforded him free range of the small wing—always with the unsaid stipulation that he _behave_ or get sent back to the room as would a child. The wing wasn’t particularly thrilling; it had a room which had at one point been an office of sorts but had become a storage room over the centuries, as well as a perfectly unassuming wash room. Neither appeared to be originally part of the Crystal Tower—the storage room felt vaguely Garlean in construction, while the wash room seemed to match the Tower but was too... _new_...to have been there originally. The Exarch’s doing, perhaps.

The storage room had a few piles of dusty tomes of varying subjects, none of which were particularly useful or interesting. He had entertained himself for a few bells the other day, however, when he found a book which covered the history of the Garlean Empire. It was immediately apparent why the book had been discarded in the storage room: the historical account was wildly inaccurate and drew some very tenuous conclusions based on said inaccuracies. According to the book, evidently Solus zos Galvus had no less than three illegitimate children who were sent to infiltrate the Eorzean nations as a trial to prove their worth to the Emperor. These children were certainly news to him, and he was quite fascinated by their alleged exploits in Eorzea. 

In truth, the book read more like a gossip rag than a historical account of Garlemald and was good only as entertainment. He did, however, enjoy the flattering artworks of himself.

“Emet-Selch?”

The sound of the Exarch’s voice roused him from his daze.

“Emet-Se—what are you doing down there?” The Exarch stood in the doorway, bewildered at the sight of him on the floor. “Why aren’t you wearing any trousers?”

Hades had, perhaps, tired of the overlarge trousers and was instead laying on the floor in the smallclothes Annaiette had given him.

The Exarch looked vaguely flustered, and was likely rethinking his decision to allow Hades to leave the room as he pleased.

“It’s more comfortable this way,” said Hades, sitting up with a yawn. “Does it bother you, Exarch?”

He made sure to spread his legs just a little bit.

The Exarch frowned—his disapproval clear but the flush on his face even clearer. “Of course not. If you should like to go naked then by all means,” the Exarch said in a huff.

Hades wondered just how entertaining the Exarch’s reaction would be if he did just that.

“Have you recovered enough to use the Echo again?” the Exarch asked after absently smoothing out his robes. “I fear that Annaiette’s condition has worsened.”

This was news to Hades; Annaiette hadn’t come by for three days now. “Worsened in what way?” he asked. He watched in surprise as the Exarch eased himself down to sit with him.

“Something has been troubling her and we fear it’s causing what remains of her turbulent aether to grow more unstable,” said the Exarch, his ears drooping. “And Y’shtola has found that she has been spending quite a lot of time wandering around the Tempest.”

And by “Tempest,” he meant the recreation of Amaurot. The Exarch’s solemn face made that abundantly clear.

“What is she doing there?”

“She seems to be looking for something but it’s not clear what. Y’shtola found her sleeping in one of the buildings—Bureau of the Secretariat, she says.”

Hades blinked in confusion. Why in the world would she sleep _there_ ? The Bureau of the Secretariat was possibly the _most_ uninteresting place to spend one’s time in Amaurot.

“And so I have come to see you,” the Exarch said finally. “I have my misgivings about what must be done, considering the state she’s in now. But to allow her to worsen when there is aught we can do is...”

The Exarch didn’t have to finish his sentence.

“I can do it,” said Hades. Without hesitation.

The Exarch paused a moment and looked to him with a sort of suspicion in his eyes. “What is she to you, Emet-Selch?”

“I could ask the same question of you, Exarch.”

“As I’ve said before, she is a—”

“‘Treasured friend.’ Right,” Hades interrupted, a hint of a smirk on his face.

The Exarch glared daggers at him.

“And you, Emet-Selch?”

Hades lay back down on the floor, resting his head on a book and closing his eyes. 

“Your Hydaelyn would have me help the Warrior of Light, and so I am. You’d not believe me if I told you otherwise.”

He heard the Exarch make a sound of irritation.

“Right. Be ready—we’ll fetch you when Annaiette returns.”

* * *

Hades didn’t have to wait long. Annaiette was returned by the evening, and if the look on her face in the central round of the Tower was any indication, it seemed that her friends had strong-armed her into complying. The turmoil of her aether was the worst that Hades had seen yet, worse than it had been when they had gone outside; though the properly-aligned portions remained so, the remainder was wild, violent. If something wasn’t done, her body would soon fall ill, and then she herself would...

He pushed it from his mind. It was not an insurmountable problem.

“What’s the matter?” Hades asked as he took his place before her, and the Scions took their places in a circle around them.

“Nothing.” 

Her face did not imply ‘nothing’ but she said no more.

“If you wish to do this another time, Annaiette…” Hades began, but Annaiette shook her head defiantly.

“No. We do this now. I’m—the dreams are a nuisance, and I would like to sleep properly again.”

This was the first time Hades had heard Annaiette refer to anything as a ‘nuisance’, and she was utterly unconvincing about it. Hades gave the Exarch a questioning look—the Exarch appeared just as uncertain about the entire situation, but gave Hades a small nod.

“Very well then. Are you ready?” Hades asked, shifting on his feet and squaring his shoulders.

Annaiette nodded and closed her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

Hades nodded. 

He dug deep for the power of the Echo—

And braced himself for the bond.

* * *

_“_ ██████ _, your presence is required at once!”_

_Athena was already hurrying on her way out of her office when a dispatcher came running from the elevators._

_“I know, I’m heading there now. How many teams have been dispatched already?”_

_“The Third and Fourth Complements are already on site, and the First and the Fifth are en route,” said the dispatcher breathlessly as he followed her into the elevator. “The Third reports that the damage is extensive, and they’ve expressed uncertainty in how long they can hold.”_

_The elevator opened to the ground floor._

_“Send for a support team from the Architect,” said Athena as she strode from the elevator. “If the reports are that bad, we will require their assistance.”_

_“Understood!”_

_Once outside, Athena took off at a full sprint, her robes billowing behind her. The Bureau of the Conservator had received an emergency report that a sinkhole had formed underneath_ █████████ _and three buildings were in danger of collapsing. It was known for some time that there was a drainage problem underneath those particular buildings—and indeed, she had already assigned a team to investigate and mend it—but the sinkhole proved that the problem was more dire than anyone had anticipated._

_The sight that greeted her was horrifying. The air was filled with dust from the partial collapse of a tower, and the other two buildings were leaning precariously—if not stabilized, they’d fall at any moment. A crowd of terrified Amaurotines were gathered along a perimeter controlled by the lead of the Third Complement. He caught sight of her and visibly let out a sigh of relief._

_“Euneas, report,” said Athena once she had pushed through the crowd._

_“The foundation is unstable and unlikely to hold much longer—there was extensive water damage underneath, much worse than we thought. The Third is currently evacuating the Central_ █████████ _while the Fourth is attempting to stabilize the foundation.”_

_Athena looked to the collapsed tower and the deep hole underneath—the Third was evacuating the survivors from there, but there were two others still that required evacuation. “Euneas, have the Fourth begin evacuating the East_ █████████ _. When the First and Fifth arrive, have the First evacuate the West_ █████████ _and have the Fifth attend me.”_

_Without another word, Athena leapt into the sinkhole, her aether singing as her form grew—overshadowing the mages of the Fourth desperately trying to prop up the crumbling foundation as best they could. “Fourth, leave this to me and begin evacuation of the East_ █████████ _immediately!” Athena called as she summoned massive metal beams to support the visible edges of the foundation._

_“Understood!”_

_The Fourth immediately returned topside as Athena pressed her back up against a sagging section and called forth enormous stone columns in the soil to supplement the existing foundation—she could feel them extending into the ground and she lengthened them as far as she could, but the ground was too soft—much too soft—_

_The foundation sagged, and with a groan she pressed it back. She couldn’t leave this section to fall into the sinkhole—not with the hole so deep and the ground so soft—_

_Her stone columns broke through to a chasm underneath. When had the drainage problem gotten this bad?_

_The mages of the Fifth arrived, and as she strained she felt a measure of relief, all the while reinforcing the massive slab on her back with metal beams—_

_The stone columns hit rock._

_“Fifth, take this from me—I’m going to mend the foundation!”_

_The Fifth immediately pressed up against slab and collectively groaned when she released the foundation to them._

_And she surged with aether—her mind on that which was broken—on that which required protection—_

_The slab consolidated—straightened—and once this became apparent, she and the Fifth immediately began their work to set the foundation on solid rock._

  
  
  
  


_Athena stood before thirteen at a lectern and smoothed out her robes. Lahabrea, on the opposite side of the chamber at the Speaker’s lectern, held out a hand._

_“And our final item on the agenda is the matter of the sinkhole at_ █████████ _, and the findings of the Bureau of the Conservator following the mending._ ██████ _, if you please.”_

_She nodded to Lahabrea, and cast her eyes over the Convocation._

_“We received initial reports of potential water damage underneath Central_ █████████ _one moon past...”_

  
  
  
  
  


_She sat with her forehead pressed against the table, her red mask discarded._ █████ _sat beside her, slouching in the chair with_ ███ _limbs dangling limply off to the side,_ ███ _own mask discarded on the table and_ ███ _eyes shut in exhaustion. The Convocation meeting had been exhausting—both she and_ █████ _were asked to debrief the Convocation on the mending of the_ █████████ _and subsequent investigations into the status of the drainage system._

_“Mmmphmmphmmmph,” said Athena._

_“I can’t hear you,”_ █████ _said without opening his eyes. Athena slowly turned her face toward_ ███ _._

_“I said: I can’t believe this nonsense,” Athena said. “Whose brilliant idea was it to route the drainage system that way?”_

_“Certainly not mine,”_ █████ _said._

_“The size of that sinkhole...”_

_They sat there in a weary silence. It wasn’t so much the effort in mending the foundation and sinkhole because that had been easy enough, it was all the protocol and procedure involved in handling and caring for evacuees and the cleanup and inspections and other miscellanea that one of her—and_ █████’ _s—station were required to oversee._

_“I’ll have to have a team audit the entire drainage system of Amaurot now,” Athena said in irritation. “And the paperwork for this entire debacle…”_

█████_groaned in displeasure. “I’ll send Hythlodaeus over to do it. He still owes me.”_

_Athena laughed and pulled herself upright. “I don’t want him, he’ll just cause trouble here.”_

█████_smirked, though_ ███ _eyes remained closed. “So_ you _don’t want him to cause trouble. How do you think I feel?”_ ██ _opened an eye. “It’s about time that he caused you some trouble.”_

_She grinned, pressing her mask to her face as she got to her feet. “Somehow I doubt it’ll work out that way,” she said, leaning down to_█████ █ ████ ██ ███_forehead. “Shall we? You know how Lahabrea gets when he’s hungry.”_

█████_groaned again and pulled her_████ ███ ███████ ████_. “Lahabrea can kindly shove it,”_██_murmured._

_“Who knew_ ████-█████ _could be so crass,” Athena muttered into_ ███ _lips._

██_wrapped_███_arms around_███ ███ ██████ ███ █████_—_

_Athena laughed and pressed_███ █████ ████ ███_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every time i write the athena bits i'm just like "wait do the readers actually give a shit tho are they here for angst??"
> 
> i love all you readers! whether or not you give a shit, thanks for coming by <3
> 
> unrelated: if you're on brynhildr, i'll be having a ceremony of eternal bonding sometime soon (prob october 5th). let me know if you live on brynhildr and would like to come! it will be v gay


	8. Chapter 8

The violent churn of Annaiette’s aether brought Hades to his knees, gasping for breath.

The memories, now consolidated and as whole as Hades could manage, were torn from him in a gut-wrenching crash. The thrashing of Annaiette’s soul laid bare her torment, and before the aetherial bond split apart, Hades caught but a shred of a torrential swell of emotion—

  
  


Loss.

Confusion. Frustration.

A deep, deep sorrow.

  


_Helplessness _.

  
  


Hades struggled to raise his head as his vision began swimming. Annaiette’s knees had buckled and the Exarch was holding her as she tried and failed to get to her feet. He could see her eyes darting back and forth—narrowed, almost squinting, as though trying to focus on something that wasn’t there—her hands grasping at the Exarch’s robes, searching for something solid, something real—

She shut her eyes tight, as though in great pain.

“I’m—what—_Lahabrea _—” she sputtered, and at the mention of Lahabrea’s name, Thancred and Y’shtola immediately drew their weapons.

Hades let out a cry of pain and surprise when he was kicked onto his back, and as he struggled to keep hold of himself he felt Thancred’s blade press against his throat.

“What have you done?!” Thancred snarled.

“I—I didn’t—” Hades groaned, his eyes clenched shut as the world swayed underneath him.

“Thancred, stop,” Annaiette said through gritted teeth. She still had a hand to her head, but her eyes looked focused now—like they had returned from wherever they had gone. “It was just a—it was just a memory.”

Hades was slipping—his consciousness fading—and before the darkness took him, he thought he saw the smallest flash of recognition in Athena’s soul.

* * *

_In this barren land, here in the end, a dark hooded figure stood at the edge of the darkness._

_He approached. His feet sent up soft clouds of dust from the dead soil, leaving naught but footsteps as a reminder of that which came before._

_The dark figure turned, and the red mask of the Conservator greeted him here in the end. The dust of a thousand thousand years fell away from her robes._

_“Emet-Selch.”_

_Her voice was distorted._ _  
_ _Many voices as one, but discordant._

_“Was it worth it, Emet-Selch?”_

_He exhaled. _

_“It was our best chance. Our only chance.”_

_A crack crept across the mask of the Conservator._

_“The answer to a different question. I asked: was it _** _w o r t h i t_ ** _, Emet-Selch?”_

_More cracks formed, and the mask began crumbling. _

_There were tears in his eyes, here in the end._

_“No. It wasn’t.”_

_The Conservator bowed her head. The mask was nearly gone._

_“I thought not, Hades.”_  


_It left nothing in its wake._

* * *

Hades woke, his face wet with tears.

He was back in his room. His mind felt hazy in the darkness—it had a tenuous connection with his body and he felt it might drift away at any moment. He didn’t have the wherewithal to check if there was food or water left for him; the weariness in him was deep, profound, and in the fog of his mind there was a passing thought:

How many more times would he be able to do this for the Warrior of Light before this vessel—and this singular life granted by Hydaelyn—could take no more?

Hades wondered if it might work out better that way in the end—that he leave this world for good once he finished mending the Warrior of Light. 

_Once he finished mending Athena._

He let out a deep sigh and tried to melt into the cot.

Annaiette had muttered something about Lahabrea before Hades fell unconscious, and he wondered if that meant the memories were surfacing in her conscious mind, if she was on her way to remembering what she once was. Or remembering as much as she could, given her fragmented state. His heart ached at the thought; Athena would never be restored, not completely.

Not unless the Rejoining happened.

  
  


_But it would have never worked the way they wanted._

  
  


The sound of the door creaking open pulled his mind out of the fog, and he was able to lift his eyelids long enough to find someone standing over him.

“Hades?”

At the sound of Annaiette’s voice, a groan escaped his throat—he pooled what little strength he had to drag himself back into lucidity. He found her kneeling now, and even in the dim light with his bleary vision, her worry and concern were readily apparent.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, the relief clear in her voice. “I brought water.”

“Hhhh—how long w—how long was I sleeping?” His voice was hoarse, and the words were difficult to form.

“Nearly three suns now,” she said. There was a heavy guilt in her voice. “Can you move?”

He closed his eyes a moment as he took a deep breath, and tried to push himself upright. But his arm was unprepared for the weight and with a small yelp of surprise, his elbow buckled—he clenched his eyes shut in anticipation for the impact but instead felt an arm catch him, and he found himself pushed gently into a sitting position. A dizziness overcame him and he inhaled sharply, leaning against the wall and pressing his head against it for some semblance of balance.

When the spinning in his head finally stopped, he turned wearily to Annaiette. She had turned the overhead lights on while he had been waiting for his head to calm itself, and he was struck by just how haggard she looked: her hair was disheveled—more so than her usual adventure-swept look—and she had dark lines under her eyes which were even more pronounced in the light.

Her aether yet raged, and there was something haunted in her gaze.

She held up a tankard with a sort of tired half-smile. 

“Water?”

Hades reached for the tankard and hoped that his fingers could hold it, inwardly sighing with relief when the tankard didn’t slip from his grasp. The water was more welcome than he thought, and he only gave it back when his stomach began to protest. He took a few moments to shut his eyes and rouse the rest of his body from its three-day sleep before turning back to to her. She was looking away toward the wall, but her eyes were malms away…

It took her a moment to realize that he was watching her and she gave a small start. “How are you feeling?” Annaiette asked hastily. “Not great, I imagine. But I thought I’d ask.”

He let out a snort of amusement. “Now whatever could have given you that idea?”

Annaiette let out a laugh—a forced one that quickly trailed off into silence. She looked away for a moment to gather her thoughts, before she met his gaze again. “Thank you, Hades,” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet for...for helping me.”

“Just doing what I can, Annaiette. Where would everyone be without their stalwart hero?”

The glow of Athena’s soul was brighter now, but it was almost painful to see it in stark contrast with Annaiette’s wan face.

“Well, thank you all the same,” she said as she got to her feet. “I’ll be back with some soup.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond before slipping out of the room.

Hades sat there a moment, musing over the Warrior of Light’s troubled appearance. She was almost certainly seeing flashes of memory, but just how much? And which ones? He wondered if memories of the final days of Amaurot were surfacing; even he found it difficult to recall those days—the thousands and thousands of years had not dulled the pain in the least.

He felt the anxiety begin churning in the pit of his stomach. In the final days, he and Athena had not seen eye to eye. Disastrously so. 

And selfishly—shamefully—he dreaded the day that she remembered.

To push the thought from his mind, he pulled the blankets off and shifted on the cot to allow his legs to hang from the edge. He let out a sigh of relief and melted back against the wall; though his muscles seemed to be in a state of constant soreness these days, it felt good to move them and let his skin touch the air. Interestingly, someone had seen fit to undress him down to his smallclothes, and he wondered who had the unhappy task of doing so.

He had nearly drifted off to sleep in that position when Annaiette returned, bowl in hand. “I brought soup. Urianger made it,” she said, setting it on the chair before easing herself down to sit beside him on the cot with a sigh.

Her warmth, her aether, her soul—he felt it all radiating off her.

“You don’t look well. What’s bothering you?” Hades asked, giving her a sidelong glance. The corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, but she didn’t look at him.

“If anyone is unwell, it’s you,” she said. “I’ll be fine. Just tired.”

She didn’t sound the least bit convincing, especially not with the wild churn of her aether. More of it was properly aligned now, but the remainder seemed more violent than ever...

“Not a very good liar, are you?” Hades said finally. 

“I suppose not.” Annaiette let out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t been sleeping is all. Too afraid to.”

That was certainly interesting. He wondered if the memories of Amaurot were indeed surfacing—those would terrify anyone.

“And what might be so terrifying that the Warrior of Light herself fears sleep?” he asked lightly.

Annaiette stiffened slightly. She looked conflicted, unable to find words.

They sat there in silence, as Hades tried to ignore the feeling of her warmth.

“Eat the soup so you don’t waste away,” Annaiette said. She got to her feet, patting his thigh on her way up. “Let's go outside tomorrow.”

She didn’t look back as she disappeared out the door.

Her touch felt electric on his skin.

* * *

Annaiette looked even more exhausted the next morning. The Warrior of Light he knew carried herself tall, as though her many burdens were as nothing—she was nearly as tall as him, but in this moment she felt small, and he thought her greatsword might have weighed five hundred ponze on her back.

Had she been awake all night?

This time, the Exarch was waiting at the entrance to see them off. He looked quite anxious—likely overwhelmed with concern for his friend—and as she and Hades passed, the Exarch briefly met his gaze and glanced meaningfully toward Annaiette before retreating back into the Tower.

Annaiette led them in a different direction on the opposite side of the Rotunda. With some surprise, he thought he caught sight of Y’shtola and Thancred on the upper level. He supposed with Annaiette in the state she was, even Y’shtola found it appropriate to keep watch on them. 

They finally stopped at the foot of a watchtower by the Rookery, and over her shoulder she gave him an apologetic look. “It’s nice up there. It’ll be worth the climb,” she said with a small smile, before beginning her ascent up the stairs.

The stairs nearly ended him. His body was so enfeebled that halfway up the watchtower he wondered how disappointed Hydaelyn would be to find that Her one chance to mend Her Champion died from something as mundane as stairs. But Annaiette wasn’t wrong; the view from high up at the top of the tower was much better than down from the parapet, and they sat with their legs dangling over the lip of the platform as they both recovered from the climb. She wordlessly handed him a waterskin, which he took gratefully.

They sat silently in the breeze once they had both drank their fill.

“Did you sleep last night?” Hades asked when he could no longer stem his curiosity. 

“No, not really,” she said. She paused a moment before bowing her head. “When I sleep, I see memories that don’t belong to me. I—”

She let out a quivering breath and didn’t finish her sentence.

“Memories of what?” Hades ventured.

It took her a few moments to find the nerve to speak. “Arguments, yelling. Fire and beasts. Amaurot collapsing. The Flood.”

Hades blinked. One of those was not like the other.

“The Flood?” he asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

  
  


A sharp pain shot through his head—as a knife digging into his mind—

  
  


The Light was overwhelming.

The sky was bright—much too bright—

And neither Annaiette nor Athena were anywhere to be found. 

Instead he found the unexpected: Loghrif and Mitron standing before a party of adventurers steeped in Light, a party known to Hades only as an element of a plan…

His gut wrenched when he saw the slightest hint of Athena blinking in the brown-haired Hyur brandishing a blood-covered axe.

“You would doom this shard to save a traitorous friend?” said Loghrif, and though his tone was aloof, Hades could hear the strain in his voice. Their plan was falling apart—the First was on the brink of consumption, soon to be devoured by the Light and become a void as did the Thirteenth by Igeyorhm’s hand—their counterbalance nowhere to be found—

Mitron couldn’t hide his rage. “The foolishness of you sundered men!” he snarled. “That you cannot strike down _one_ in order to save an entire world—!”

“We’ll not suffer you and yours any longer!” the Hyur growled. “You have sowed enough chaos and suffering, and it ends here and now!”

The Light was building within them—within the Hyur and his comrades—and they raised their weapons, suffused with Light—

The battle was blinding, the bursts of savage Light tearing Loghrif and Mitron’s very essences—

With the Ascians dispatched, the Light was unbound. 

  
  
  


The adventurers soon realized what they had wrought—that they had once more been played for fools. The Flood began consuming their world, leaving naught in its wake…

  
  


And then came Elidibus, trying to salvage the situation, convincing them that salvation lay in destroying the Warrior of Light in the Source…

  
  
  


Hades was back at the watchtower. Annaiette’s eyes were on him, full of knowing.

“What did you see?” she asked softly.

“The Flood.”

She nodded and turned to gaze out over the mountains and Lakeland. “Those memories belong to Ardbert,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “He walked with me, here in the First. None but I could see him, not even you. Save for Hythlodaeus.”

Hades’s eyes widened in shock; that another fragment of Athena had been under his nose the entire time—that he had been too blind to see the hue—

“We fought together to stop you, Ardbert and I,” Annaiette continued. Her eyes were glistening. “When I could hold the Light no longer—when I was on the brink of becoming a beast—we became as one and then I had the strength to contain it. And together, we struck you down.”

He felt his breath catch in his chest. 

_So_ **that** _is what happened in the Tempest…_

Annaiette was wringing her hands. “Afterwards, when I thought about it more, I wondered what it meant for us to join like that. Ardbert is gone, and I remain. He is now but a collection of memories in my head...”

Athena’s soul was crying.

“What will happen to Annaiette, I wonder?” she said with a pained smile, tears running down her cheeks. She turned her eyes to him, and they were full of anguish. “The memories of Amaurot—they’re Athena’s, aren’t they? My soul is a fragment of hers, isn’t it? A piece of the Conservator?”

Hades couldn’t speak—he didn’t know what to say. 

But he nodded.

Annaiette laughed. “There are more and more memories, and I see them when I sleep. Sometimes Ardbert’s, sometimes others, but mostly hers. Every time you use the Echo, I feel as though Annaiette is sinking deeper and deeper...I am afraid to sleep, because I don’t know if I will wake as myself...”

He didn’t know what to say. _He didn’t know what to say_.

“When all is said and done, will it be Athena standing here? Will Annaiette be as Ardbert—as memories in Athena’s head?” Annaiette said, her hands trembling. “Is it selfish of me to fear this? Do you think it proof that Annaiette is unworthy? Just a selfish fragment of a person, as you said down in Amaurot?”

“N-no—no, I—”

“But I am the Warrior of Light. Not the _Annaiette_ of Light,” she laughed. Her voice was nearly a sob. “If losing myself is what must be done to save these worlds, then it is a price I pay gladly. I only hope that Athena is as kind as you say...”

Words were failing him. 

Without thinking, Hades pulled Annaiette into his arms, and though their forms were different—so very unlike their bodies before the end of Amaurot—she felt painfully, achingly familiar.

Annaiette clutched his jacket tightly, her body trembling, and she wept into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me as i was rewatching shadowbringers cutscenes to refresh my memory: "_i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up i fu--_"
> 
> anyways! this chapter sure was a thing. as always, a big thank you to all you readers! i appreciate all of you more than you know <3
> 
> ALSO: my eternal bonding is happening on 10/5 at 10 pm pacific time, so if anyone is on brynhildr and wants to go, hit me up :U you'll get a special gift out of it lol


	9. Chapter 9

The Warrior of Light lay sleeping on the watchtower platform.

Annaiette had wept until her tears were spent, then mumbled an apology and laid back on the platform with the crook of her arm over her eyes—presumably to compose herself, but her exhaustion instead sent her drifting off to sleep. Hades hadn’t been quite sure what to do as he hadn’t the strength to carry her down the stairs—let alone carry her all the way back to the Crystal Tower—but she looked so peaceful that he had settled with covering her with his coat.

The portion of her aether that churned was much smaller now despite it being wilder than ever. Twice or thrice more ought to return her to a healthy state...

Eventually Hades heard the approach of heavy boots and the sound of a sword disengaging from its holster.

“You ought to put that away before you take an eye out,” Hades said lazily without turning to look.

He heard Thancred scoff in contempt.

“No need to get your smallclothes in a twist,” Hades laughed. “Your hero is only sleeping.”

Thancred stepped up beside him, and Hades heard the gunblade return to its place on Thancred’s back. Hades glanced up toward him and found, to his increasing amusement, that there was a deep scowl on Thancred’s face. “Your face will stick like that if you keep that up, dear boy,” said Hades with a thin smirk.

The scowl only deepened. “What’s your game, Ascian?” Thancred demanded. Hades shrugged noncommittally.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but there is no game,” he said. He gestured at his body. “Look at me. Do you really think I’m in any shape to do _anything_, even if I wanted?”

Thancred, predictably, looked unconvinced.

“You lived an entire _life_ as Solus zos Galvus. I’m sure pretending to be this weak and powerless is child’s play to you,” Thancred hissed. Hades couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Then by all means, drive yourself mad figuring out what ‘game’ this is. Do let me know once you’ve worked it out, because I’d love to know myself.”

Thancred let out a frustrated grunt and turned away to scowl at the mountains.

“I can’t help but notice that your young charge has been nowhere to be found,” Hades continued, turning to the mountains in turn. “Already off on her own, is she? They grow up so fast. Brings a tear to my eye.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thancred bristle in irritation. “I don’t want her exposed to the likes of you. You’ve caused her enough pain as it is.”

“Fair enough.”

It was curious that Thancred deigned to stay rather than storm away in a huff. Concerned for Annaiette, Hades supposed. Not that he cared either way; the longer Thancred stayed, the more opportunities would arise to irritate him.

“Lahabrea.”

Hades glanced up at Thancred, an eyebrow arched. “What about him?”

“Why was I so easily possessed?” Thancred asked, crossing his arms. “Why me?”

“To get at the Scions, to hazard a guess. I’m afraid I I don’t know the full details as I was busy dying in Garlemald,” Hades said with a small shrug. “Don’t take it personally—the only true protection is Hydaelyn’s blessing.”

Thancred turned to him, his eyes blazing and his teeth very nearly bared. “‘_Don’t take it personally_’? Do you have any idea how much _death_ I caused?” Thancred snarled. He narrowed his eyes. “But I’m sure you do. That was the entire point.”

“What would you have me do?” Hades asked, giving him a questioning look. “Apologize? Beg for forgiveness? You and I both know that an apology from me would be laughably meaningless, and that I deserve no forgiveness besides.”

“Hmph.”

A silence fell upon them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the activity at the Rookery and the Warrior of Light’s intermittent snores.

“I don’t know how Annaiette and Urianger can stand you. Annaiette especially, after what you did to her.”

Thancred was certainly talkative today. But he wasn’t wrong: Hades had been surprised at every turn by Annaiette’s and Urianger’s kindness, and it thoroughly boggled the mind. For a brief moment he wondered if it was some sort of Elezen Scion predisposition, but then he remembered Alisaie and promptly threw the theory away. 

“I don’t know either. Maybe you should ask them,” Hades said lightly, though the now-familiar feeling of guilt reared its head. “That _is_ a thing you can do, you know. Ask. Have you tried?”

Thancred’s silence told Hades all he needed to know. 

“I’m watching you,” Thancred snapped before turning on his heel and stomping off down the stairs.

“I’ve come to expect the voyeurism from you, my dear,” Hades called over his shoulder. He could hear Thancred’s deliciously aggravated _tch_ from down the watchtower stairs.

Hades let out a sigh once he and the slumbering Annaiette were left alone. 

_I don’t know how Annaiette and Urianger can stand you_. 

If he were to be honest, he couldn’t stand himself either. 

  
  


Annaiette twitched and inhaled sharply—her eyes shot open and were searching frantically for something or someone. When her gaze finally settled on Hades’s face, she narrowed her eyes dubiously.

“What’s wrong?” Hades asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You...” she began, though she trailed off—Hades could see the moment that realization finally sank in. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Weren’t we just arguing?”

“Arguing? You’ve been asleep for nearly two bells now.”

Her face fell.

“Ah.”

With a heavy sigh, Annaiette extricated herself from the coat and heaved herself into a sitting position. “Thank you,” she said, extending it to him. She couldn’t seem to meet his gaze.

“Not at all.”

Hades watched her carefully as she yawned and ran her fingers through her hair. She’d made an interesting slip of the tongue in her just-woken state—she had said “we,” and Hades wondered if this was a sign of conscious recognition or if it was merely a remnant from her dream. Athena rarely argued with anyone, let alone him, but as the End approached he and Athena had argued viciously...

But Annaiette didn’t seem to realize this and proceeded to pull herself onto her feet. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked. The embarrassment was evident on her face. 

Hades shrugged as he pulled his coat on. “You looked tired.”

She appeared quite disapproving of this and frowned as she shouldered her greatsword. Perhaps she had intended to never sleep again in her life, and he had inadvertently ruined that plan.

“Let’s go back,” she said. There was a hint of reluctance in her voice, but nonetheless she began making her way down the stairs.

Hades wanted to ask her what she had been dreaming about—what they had been arguing about—but at the same time he hesitated. Annaiette was struggling with the memories, and he worried if he but pushed on it, she would deteriorate. Or lash out.

Or _remember_.

And though Athena was close—_so, so close—_deep in the pit of his stomach, he dreaded the day he would have to face her, or whatever she might be once Annaiette aether was mended.

“I like the memories with Hythlodaeus best,” Annaiette said unprompted as they passed the Rotunda. “Nothing stressful, no arguing or fire or beasts. I think Athena laughs a lot with him. It’s nice.”

She had a thin smile on her face, and despite the fact that most of the laughing in the memories was likely at his own expense, Hades couldn’t help but smile in turn. The way her soul twinkled with her words made it clear that Athena had held those memories close.

His heart ached for her.

There was also no mention of himself; the three of them were together often enough, and if he still wasn’t clear in her mind then he supposed his attempts to block himself out were successful. Part of him despised his cowardice, but another part him yet dreaded what he was sure was inevitable…

Annaiette stopped at the bottom of the steps up to the Crystal Tower and wheeled around on her heel—he nearly bumped into her and was only just able to stop himself.

“Do you want to take a walk in Lakeland?” she asked, shuffling on her feet uncomfortably. ”I don’t want to go inside and I’m sure you’ve long since tired of that room.”

“You are mistaken there, hero. There are a great many things to do in that room—you haven’t truly lived until you have stared at the wall for seven entire bells,” he said, spreading his arms with a flourish—he hadn't done that in ages and it felt like a return to form. “But I imagine the Exarch and dear Thancred _just might_ have some opinions on the matter. Call it a hunch.” 

She looked conflicted—clearly she had already considered this, and clearly she knew just _what_ they would think of it.

“The Exarch only has my best interests in mind. As does Thancred,” she said slowly, her eyes darting anxiously toward the steps to the Tower. She obviously had more to say, and seemed embroiled with her thoughts.

“But?” Hades added helpfully.

“But I’m the Warrior of Light and they can’t stop me. Thancred will probably follow us besides. Let’s go,” Annaiette said resolutely. She began leading him back toward the Rotunda.

“Who am I to argue with the Warrior of Light?” he said with a laugh.

They walked in silence as they made their way out of the Crystarium. Hades didn’t look back but he expected Thancred was skulking around someplace behind them, likely fuming at Annaiette’s recklessness. Still, Annaiette had the right of it; what could they truly do to stop her? 

It felt odd to be outside the Crystarium; he had resigned himself to being locked in the Crystal Tower until this vessel gave out or the Scions decided to kill him, and even just being allowed out into the Crystarium had been odd enough. That he was out walking among the violet trees felt a boon he didn’t deserve.

But soon he found himself wondering with some concern about where Annaiette was taking him. They were walking further and further out from the Crystarium, and the Lakeland creatures along the path had taken quite an interest in him. Had she not wordlessly kept him shielded as she cut the creatures down, he might have actually met his end there in the forest. Hades was so used to killing with a mere snap of his fingers that the fact that _he_ needed protection from such trifling beasts… 

It felt so incredibly surreal.

It wasn’t until they reached the water’s edge that Annaiette finally stopped and stuck her sword upright on an island of dry dirt under a tree, before shaking out her shoulders and arms as though the entire ordeal was barely a warmup—but she was the Warrior of Light, and she had fought _him_ and lived to tell the tale. With this body as weak as it was, she would likely be able to break him in twain with her bare hands.

The thought, rather disconcertingly, sent a shiver down his spine.

“All right there, Hades?” she asked, looking to him over her shoulder.

“If you’re trying to impress me, you should have to do better than that,” he said with a smirk, and she snorted in amusement.

“I could kill you again, if that’s what you prefer.” 

“And take that pleasure away from Thancred? He’d be so disappointed.”

Annaiette snorted again as she sank down to sit, resting her elbows on her knees. “Thancred could do with some pleasure, I think,” she laughed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you could satisfy him.”

Hades stepped carefully over a puddle of water and took a seat beside her. “Is that a challenge?” he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

“You could take it as one if you like, but I’ll not be able to protect you if it goes sideways.”

“And if he likes it sideways?”

She let out a sharp, barking laugh that startled him—she generally had such a subdued demeanor that he didn’t expect she could make such a sound. But it was a fleeting moment; she immediately let out a sigh and rested her head on a hand, her eyes forward toward the lake and as she watched the movement of the water. 

She looked conflicted again and her aether was lashing out wildly.

“Why did we come here?” Hades asked.

Annaiette was silent for a moment, and he could see the muscles in her jaw clenching and unclenching.

“It’s...difficult sometimes,” she said slowly, as though the words were difficult to form. “Indoors, there’s nothing really to distract from knowing. Knowing everything you’ve done to our world. To my friends. To me.” She sighed again. “Outside, it’s easier. I can pretend that you’re my friend—that you hadn’t just tried your damndest to kill me. Being near nature helps somehow. I don’t know why.”

  
  
  


There was an irritatingly familiar piercing pain in his head—honestly, Hydaelyn should give her Chosen a better way to recognize a vision from the Echo than giving them a stabbing headache—

  
  
  


Hades found himself standing at the edge of a familiar forest, with massive, towering trees stretching up high above as though reaching for the sky itself. 

His heart skipped a beat when he found Athena sitting on the thick roots of the nearest tree, her hood down and her red mask held loosely in her fingers. His past self stood beside her, hood up and mask on and arms crossed. Hades could see the skyline of Amaurot far in the distance, and it was toward the city that Athena and his past self were looking.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” said Athena with a placid smile on her face. “There’s something calming about looking at the city from here.”

“Hmm. Yes,” was all the past Hades said. 

Hades wrinkled his nose at himself. He remembered this moment dearly: Athena had convinced him to come along to the outskirts of Amaurot during one of her regular field inspections, and he remembered being unimpressed by all the dirt and disorder of the outdoors. But he had agreed to come because Hythlodaeus had been incessantly pestering him about it.

“Do try to contain all your excitement, Hades,” she laughed. “Perhaps I should have asked Hythlodaeus instead.”

“You should have. He’d hate it out here,” said Past Hades with a wry smile.

“Hah, that he would. Next time, then.” She let out a small sigh and rubbed her eyes wearily. “It helps to come out here and have time to myself after spending all my time working to fix the problems of others.”

“Ah. Then forgive me for intruding upon your personal time,” Past Hades said.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t actually want you here,” Athena replied. The Architect looked impassive, but Hades knew his heart was fluttering.

Athena suddenly got to her feet to face him. She looked resolute, though there was a faint tinge of red in her cheeks.

“Hades. I—ah—I wanted to tell you something. I don’t want it to sour our working relationship should y—”

Hades watched himself move toward Athena—his breath caught in his throat—

  
  
  


But all too soon he found himself back in Lakeland sitting beside Annaiette, his heart thundering in his chest.

She was looking despondently out toward the water, and he wasn’t sure that she had noticed his brief Echo reverie. She did eventually notice, however, that he was staring wide-eyed at her as his mind reeled at the veritable gut-punch of that particular memory.

“What?”

He had to dredge his voice up from where it was hiding.

“Nothing,” was all he could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: quality time with thancred and wol**
> 
> idk if i got the timeline right. didn't solus die sometime during ARR? idk SORRY IF I GOT IT WRONG NEW GAME+ ISN'T A THING YET AND I DON'T WANT TO PLAY ON MY ALT BECAUSE I HAVE A MILLION OTHER THINGS TO BE DOING
> 
> anywho, sorry for the delay. i was super busy this week and only had bits of time during the days to poke at the chapter. was on airplane hell getting to orlando to help my work's recruiting team at the grace hopper celebration, and then had to actually work the booth lol
> 
> anywho, here you go! hope y'all enjoy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember songfics?
> 
> Well, this isn't one hahahah
> 
> _BUT_
> 
> Consider this song: [Drumming Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boo2Zm69fhY)

Annaiette finally decided it was time to return to the Crystarium when she caught herself nodding off for the third time that afternoon. They had spent nearly the entire time in a sort of meditative silence—Annaiette likely musing over the memories which plagued her, and Hades trying to make sense of the wild array of emotions that had assaulted him in the wake of the memory he had seen. 

She seemed a little bit ill—her skin was pale and her breathing was just slightly labored as she cleared the path of beasts for him. Hades couldn’t be sure if the sleep deprivation was catching up to her, if her aetherial problems were finally manifesting physically, or some combination of both. And of course, when he had gently asked if she felt well upon reaching the gate to the Crystarium, she had quickly waved off the question as though he was speaking nonsense. 

But the pallor of her skin and the slight squint of discomfort said otherwise.

No one was waiting to greet them at the Crystal Tower. Hades had half-expected the Exarch to be anxiously awaiting their arrival, but he was nowhere to be found. Which made things difficult, as he had wanted to tell the Exarch to spend some time with her that evening to ensure she didn’t run off to do something reckless—or ensure that some inept fools didn’t ask her to do something reckless on their behalf.

Annaiette pushed open the door to the wing and stepped in before standing aside to let him pass.

“Thank you for humoring me today,” she said, rubbing her neck in embarrassment. “Not that you really had a choice, I suppose.”

“Not at all. I should be thanking _you_—it was good to get some fresh air,” he replied with a small smile. 

It took him a moment to realize that she had given him an awkward one-armed hug before hastily disappearing through the door.

And left in her wake was a longing he’d not felt in eons.

Hades let out a quivering breath and sank down to the floor. 

A profound ache filled him, body and soul, as he sat there in the dim hallway with his head in his hands. He had spent so long—_so, so long_—burying those feelings as far down as they would go, and the all-consuming devotion to Zodiark had kept them there; with their mission to Rejoin the shards, the feelings were so dulled that it had been easy think he could live without until all was said and done—that it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant the return of his god, and in turn, his people. But Hydaelyn had unbound him, and whether Annaeitte was aware of it or not, she had not so much uncovered the emotions as forcibly dragged them back into the forefront.

And with those feelings—with the love for Athena that he had buried deep, deep down—came the rest of his love that had been near-completely overshadowed by his devotion.

Zodiark had deadened the fullness of his love and though he had sustained himself for thousands upon thousands of years on what little he was allowed—just enough to keep him and the Ascians doggedly on their path, just enough to fuel the burgeoning resentment toward the Sundered peoples—the Rejoining and subsequent offering would have only further empowered Zodiark and His hold upon him, and he doubted he would have _ever_ been allowed to feel the entirety love he once felt for his home and his people. 

And he had been so brazenly sure of himself for so very long...The vitriol that had come out of his mouth and the blood that had stained his hands and the innocents who had fallen in the name of that which he had once loved so deeply—

The full magnitude of _everything_ was sinking in. The deep ache for his home and his friends—for his people—for all who were lost—for _Amaurot_—all the pain was returning a hundredfold—

He curled into himself as his body was wracked with sobs.

And when he had no more tears to cry—when he lay there on the floor in the darkness of the hallway, unmoving and numbly staring at the opposite wall—his thoughts turned to Hydaelyn.

She allowed her Chosen this love and this pain. So what, then, did She ask in return?

  
  


Hades hardly noticed when the door opened.

But he did notice the sharp pain on his leg—the squeak of surprise—the piercing shatter of porcelain—

He yelped in pain when something—someone—fell on him with a clattering _thud_.

Annaiette rolled off him with a low groan of pain and muttered a string of expletives as she pulled herself onto her knees. Pain radiated through Hades’s body from where all the very pointy limbs and very pointy armor adornments had jabbed him, and he reflexively curled into a ball to stem the pain.

“Are you all right?” she asked as soon as she was upright. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

“No, I just—I was just tired—” he groaned as he sat up, rubbing his thigh where a metal spike on her coat had stabbed him. The spike hadn’t broken through the fabric of his trousers but it certainly felt like it had.

“So you laid on the floor?” Annaiette asked in disbelief. 

There was true concern in her eyes as she gave him a searching look—her eyes darted about his face and quickly her expression softened. “Have you been crying, Hades?” she asked softly.

“Of course not, what makes you say that?” he said lightly, but the hoarseness of his voice betrayed his lie. He couldn’t bear to look at her and instead turned his attention to the mess of rice and vegetables and ceramic fragments now scattered all over the hallway.

Annaiette was silent for a moment, until Hades heard her remove the sword from her back so she could comfortably sit beside him. 

Her warmth and her soul were so close it was almost overwhelming.

“You’ve been so kind as of late that it would be remiss of me to not offer you the same,” she said. “You can tell me what’s troubling you if you like. Although I suppose the Warrior of Light may not be the best confidant for an Ascian, so...”

It felt impossible to put into words the enormity of the heartache within him.

“Hydaelyn unbound me from Zodiark’s grasp when She sent me here,” he said finally. He still couldn’t look at her. “I hadn’t realized how being a servant of Zodiark had numbed me. It...it recently became clear.”

A silence fell between them.

After a few moments, he felt her shift herself closer and put an arm around his shoulder. He nearly recoiled at her touch—it was familiar but markedly foreign to feel the totality of her arms and her warmth _and her soul_ now pressed against him. Annaiette said nothing but her arms and her soul and her _everything_ radiated a sympathy and understanding he hadn’t known since—

Hades found new tears welling up in his eyes—tears he thought were spent—and he couldn’t control the trembling of his body.

Her arm tightened slightly around his shoulders.

“I won’t pretend to know what that means for you, and I don’t know what I could even say,” she said softly. “But crying helps, at least a little bit. You’ve already watched me make a mess of myself with no complaint, so there will be no judgment here.”

His words failed him.  
The tears fell freely.

* * *

Hades sat alone on the cot.

Once he had gotten himself under control—when his body calmed and his tears stopped flowing—he and Annaiette had cleaned up the mess of food in the hallway. She’d said nothing about the mess nor the fact that he had been laying on the floor, but silently Hades had been mortified: he who had inspired entire empires had been uncontrollably sobbing on the floor like a broken half-measure of a man.

Though he supposed _broken half-measure of a man_ was perhaps an accurate description of his sorry state in this moment.

When the door next opened, Hades found to some surprise that it was the Exarch who stepped in, bearing a fresh bowl of rice and vegetables.

“Emet-Selch.”

“Exarch.”

The Exarch eased himself into the chair and let out a long sigh. “I told Annaiette to get some rest. She didn’t look well.”

“I noticed as well,” Hades said, crossing his arms with a frown. “It’s difficult to say whether she simply needs sleep or if her aetherial problem is making her ill. I believe it to be the latter.”

“Y’shtola would agree with you there,” the Exarch replied, his voice heavy. He paused a moment, before meeting Hades’s gaze. “Before you do what we know what must be done, I would first ask a question of you, Emet-Selch.”

Hades arched an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

The Exarch leaned toward him, as though to corner him—as though to preempt the glib lies that might come out of his mouth. “With each use of the Echo, you inch closer to death. And yet you remain willing,” the Exarch said, his voice low, serious. “For as long as we have watched you, you’ve not once complained, nor attempted to escape or harm us, nor have you plotted against us. And _surely_, Annaiette told us, _surely Elidibus will appear any moment now_ and so we prepared as best we could. But he is nowhere to be found.” 

When the Exarch did not continue, Hades tilted his head slightly in confusion—both at the lack of a question and their quiet preparation for the arrival of Elidibus. He’d not know how to contact Elidibus even if he wanted to.

“That is not a question, Exarch.”

The Exarch let out a short snort of impatience. 

“My question is thus, Emet-Selch: why?”

“I—Hydaelyn bid me help the Warrior of Light. And so I am. My reason has not and will not change, no matter how many times you ask.”

“Not five moons ago you were salivating over Annaiette transforming into a Lightwarden,” the Exarch growled—inasmuch as he could. “And now here you are, willing to lay down your life for her. I struggle to believe that whatever Hydaelyn offered you could have inspired such a drastic change of heart. There has to be something else. So _why_, Emet-Selch?”

Hades grit his teeth. The Exarch was hitting too close—much too close for comfort.

“Surely you and your precious Scions should be glad to have me out of your hair and your Warrior of Light restored,” he said with a scowl. “What does it matter the reason?”

“I have had my reservations about this entire ordeal since the beginning—it leaves her entirely at your mercy and yet is the only thing that we know can help,” the Exarch said, leaning ever closer, his eyes intensifying. “I should like to know your motivations when somehow it is you—_you_—with her life in your hands.”

Hades exhaled slowly. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. Truly, I don’t,” he said. “Y’shtola noted the Light in my aether, and you yourself have seen me use the Echo to help your dear hero. I don’t know what more would satisfy you, Exarch.”

The Exarch narrowed his eyes. “You are dancing around the question, as you always have.”

In the entire time Hades had been their captive, he had only the briefest of urges to physically lash out; here, though, the desire to strike the Exarch had been growing with each passing moment. Why couldn’t the Exarch be satisfied with the answers he already received?

“I have given you my answer. What about it do you find inadequate?” Hades asked, giving him a questioning look.

The Exarch’s ear twitched in irritation. “Your motives, Emet-Selch. You have given Hydaelyn’s, not _yours_.”

“You wish to know if this is all a scheme, don’t you? If I have sent your precious Warrior of Light headlong into disaster?”

There was a momentary silence as the Exarch’s eyes searched him.

“I tire of this dance, Emet-Selch,” he finally sighed, sitting back in the chair and shooting him a weary but irritated glare.

Hades couldn’t help but inwardly laugh.

“To be true, I don’t think you have sent Annaiette into disaster at all,” the Exarch continued. “But that is the truly maddening thing: I want to know why—and I want to know why you won’t tell me.” 

A tense silence fell between them, and Hades could almost hear the grinding of the Exarch’s teeth. He tried to think of something that would satisfy the Exarch’s inquiry, but the Exarch was so intent on peeling back the veneer of his words that he wasn’t sure that _anything_ would.

“I have said and done innumerable, unforgivable things, Exarch, to which I think you would agree,” he began. The Exarch sat up straighter with his words. “Helping the Warrior of Light pales in comparison to my misdeeds but it is some small measure of decency, of which I have been sorely bereft.”

The Exarch narrowed his eyes again, his ears flattening—clearly he did not believe an onze of it.

“Once more, I don’t know what to tell you, Exarch. Why don’t you tell me what you would like me to say?” Hades asked in exasperation. “Shall I tell you that Hydaelyn has enthralled me to Her will? That I am not the true Emet-Selch? That this was my plan all along, and the Warrior of Light is fulfilling some nefarious scheme of the Ascians?”

A long, beleaguered sigh left the Exarch’s mouth as he got to his feet.

“No, Emet-Selch,” he said, his voice calm, quiet. “No, I think your reason is much more personal than that. For what other reason would you fight so hard to hide it?”

Without another word the Exarch took his leave.

Hades sat there alone and felt that for once, the Exarch had left with the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: hades cries a bunch and finally gets a fucking hug because he got flattened and nearly punctured by a dark knight**
> 
> so anyone who knows me from my portal 2 days should know that i fucking love florence + the machine, and i have the next few chapters planned with some songs in mind :|
> 
> also this chapter was a sort of weird length because if i had continued further, it would've been like 2k more words and would have ended at an odd spot maybe? idk but i decided to stop here SO HERE YOU GO


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your consideration: [Blinding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Da6bBKLPEGg)

This morning was quite a bit different than the other mornings Hades had experienced after his death.

Most mornings, he would slowly wake as the vestiges of the previous night’s dreams—or nightmares—melted away. At that point in time, he couldn’t be sure if it was actually morning as there were no clocks or windows in the wing; sometimes he would sit up and try to fight the flood of intense self-loathing that poured forth from his soul, and other times, when stemming the flood was impossible, he would find a tome to read—the more inane, the better. At some point Urianger or the Exarch would turn up to leave him something to eat, and while the Exarch typically left the food at the door and disappeared without a word, sometimes Urianger would stay to talk. Perhaps at Annaiette’s behest.

This morning, however, Thancred had stomped in demanding that he “be decent” and had marched him out of the wing without any further context, until finally he found himself sitting at a dining table across from the Exarch with Thancred and Y’shtola hovering threateningly in the background. 

He wondered if today was the day they decided he had to die. If he had known, he might have done his hair and dressed properly for the occasion; Thancred hadn’t even given him time to put on his coat or boots.

“Good morning, Emet-Selch,” said the Exarch calmly. Hades dubiously looked from the Exarch to Thancred and Y’shtola a ways behind him before giving the Exarch a small nod.

“Good morning, Exarch. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The Exarch poured coffee into a pair of mugs, and pushed one toward him. “Coffee,” he said plainly.

Hades peered into the mug. It looked and smelled like coffee, but he didn’t move to take it—he watched the Exarch carefully, in the miniscule chance the Exarch would stoop to poisoning him with a morning beverage. The Exarch noted his hesitation and took a big sip from his own mug, before holding an expectant hand out toward the mug in front of Hades.

Hades took a sip.

It was coffee.

He wondered if he’d be dead in a few minutes. Likely not, but one never knew these days.

“Now what could this be about, Exarch? I never took you for the dramatic sort. All this for coffee?” Hades asked with a laugh, leaning back in the chair. Despite the laugh, dread was stirring in his stomach; he wondered if the Exarch meant to continue prodding him about his motives in helping Annaiette, this time with the support and protection of Thancred and Y’shtola. Not that Hades could really do much to harm the Exarch save for physically striking him, of course.

“Annaiette was injured last night,” the Exarch said solemnly. “We don’t know where she had come from or what she was doing, but she returned here wounded and bleeding.”

Hades immediately sat up, his eyes wide. “What?” he said sharply. Worry and dread gripped his heart. Had she been too ill to properly protect herself? “Is she all right? Where is she?”

“Urianger is watching over her now. She ought to be fine now that her wounds have been tended to,” said the Exarch calmly, before taking a sip of coffee. Hades narrowed his eyes in suspicion: the Exarch’s detached and almost aloof demeanor was quite peculiar and surely a sign of something else.

“Why are we here having coffee if that is all you wished to tell me?” he asked, frowning.

“And here I thought you might be appreciative of the gesture,” the Exarch said, taking another sip and looking to Hades over the rim of his mug.

The Exarch was _toying_ with him.

“What do you want, Exarch?”

“What I want to know, Emet-Selch —” the Exarch began. 

Of course. _Of course_. 

Hades immediately opened his mouth to speak, but the Exarch held up a hand.

“What I want to know, Emet-Selch, is why she kept saying your name.”

His heart skipped a beat at the Exarch’s words, and he could feel the skin on his arms and neck growing hot. “Nightmares, most like,” Hades said with an offhand shrug as he desperately tried to stifle the warmth spreading through him.

“She certainly has more than her fair share of nightmares of late,” said the Exarch. “Indeed, she did seem to be having a nightmare of sorts—it wasn’t terribly difficult to surmise when she kept muttering for _Hades_ to help her.”

His heart all but stopped in his chest.

_That Annaiette had been crying out for him…_

“I—she—a nightmare, obviously,” was all he could get out of his mouth.

The Exarch and the Scions were _watching him_ and his traitorous mind was floundering—

“I knew it.”

Hades managed to get a hold of himself and found the Exarch’s eyes on him—intense, and somehow triumphant.

“What?” Hades said, scowling.

“That was quite an interesting reaction, Emet-Selch,” the Exarch said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And not one I’d expect for someone merely duty-bound to Hydaelyn. I think you’ll be rather disappointed to know that Annaiette was not saying anything of the sort—she was wounded, yes, but quickly fell asleep once we tended to her.”

Hades was dumbstruck—he looked to the Exarch and felt an unfamiliar and disconcerting pang of defeat as he felt his face growing hot with a similarly unfamiliar embarrassment. The Exarch had cornered him—well and truly cornered him—and then played him like a fiddle.

The Exarch exhaled.

“I will ask you one last time: why?”

Hades let out a laugh as his mouth turned up in a smirk. “I must say I’m quite impressed, Exarch. Well done.”

The Exarch hardly seemed to acknowledge his words and instead took another sip from his mug. “I won’t play this game with you, Emet-Selch, not anymore. Answer the question.”

He crossed his arms and silently clenched his jaw underneath his smirk. It was clear now that on some level they knew where this was going; why, then, did they feel entitled to his answer?

Thancred stepped forward, and Hades took note of the uncharacteristically absent scowl on Thancred’s face. “If I may, Exarch,” he said, his voice almost light—almost cheerful somehow. With the pair of them behaving so deliberately _odd_, Hades wondered if they had carefully planned this last night following the Exarch’s visit.

“What was it you said to me that day in the Ocular?” Thancred continued. “‘_Despite the raging tempest in your bosom, you have never opened up to your young charge_.’ Or something of the like. Now, Emet-Selch, _why would that be?_”

Those words pierced through Hades’s heart—he was in disbelief at the nerve of this man—in disbelief at the sheer absurdity of this entire situation—

“What was it, Emet-Selch? _Love_…?”

Hades sat in a stunned silence, motionless—

And as he felt a flush beginning to spread across his face, a laugh was creeping its way from the bottom of his gut. These Scions—_these Scions_—now finally taking their chance to dig their claws in—

He laughed. 

_He laughed._

He couldn’t help himself—it was all so _absurd_ that the laugh was escaping him, filling the room, filling his mind—

How very foolish of him to think it never would have come out in the end. He had expected to be dead by the time it became relevant...

But they were so intent—_they were so intent on knowing_—

The Scions seemed both startled and confused in equal measure at his laughter which now filled the air—Thancred was tensing, bewildered at this reaction, readying his sword hand—

“Oh, well done, Thancred, _well done!_ I never would have thought you had it in you,” said Hades, clapping his hands as though to silence the thunderous beating of his heart.

The Exarch, however, appeared less than impressed with his response. “I already told you that I won’t play this game.” The agitated twitches of his ear betrayed his outrage. “Is it true, then? You do this out of _love?_”

“You seem displeased, Exarch. You were quite content to play a game of your own design but seem terribly put out by the result,” said Hades. And now that he was here—now that they were so intent to _know_—

_His palms were sweating— _

“But since you have caught me—”

_His chest was ready to burst—_

“Yes. I admit it.”

Yes.  
He admitted it.

Yes.  
With the clarity of his unbound soul—

Yes.

_Love._

The Exarch was silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, ears flattening against his head. And slowly—slowly he bared his teeth. 

“After everything you’ve done—_after everything—_ you say you do this out of _love?_ ” the Exarch snarled, the words tumbling out of his mouth laced with rage. “What _love_ was there in standing by for her to become a beast—what _love_ was there in watching her suffer? In trying to kill her? In nearly succeeding! Do you _honestly_ think you are deserving of her love?”

Any vestiges of lighthearted laughter within Hades immediately dissolved, and the smile disappeared from his face.

“No. Nor have I claimed anything of the sort,” Hades said darkly. “Why don’t you just let me do what your Mothercrystal asked and mend your hero—and then, should I manage to live, you may kill me at your leisure. No exchange of love with your hero necessary.”

The Exarch and Scions said nothing but the disgust was evident on their faces, and Hades couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation.

“Let me take a moment to remind you that _you asked for this_,” he said, frowning. “It would have been easier to just let it lie, Exarch—to just let me do the dance you had _so_ tired of. Now you are unhappier for it and have only yourself to blame.”

The Exarch closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he exhaled through his teeth.

“Come now, Exarch. Why are you getting so worked up over _my_ feelings? Has it become too real now that you have heard it from my mouth?” Hades asked. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Allow me to turn the question back to you: why do _you_ help the Warrior of Light?”

The Exarch met his gaze, his eyes were blazing. “To stop people like _you_ who would bring and have brought calamities upon us—because she is our beacon of hope—and because she can’t do it alone.”

Hades tilted his head just so.

“Are you not doing the same dance, Exarch?” 

For the first time since Hades entered the room, Y’shtola spoke up. “Exarch. I think you have gotten all the information you wanted—Thancred and I will return Emet-Selch to his cell.” Though she sounded business-like as was her wont, there was something gentle in her voice; was she trying to rescue the Exarch from this debacle?

“Get up, Ascian,” said Thancred, bearing his usual scowl as he stepped past the Exarch.

Hades got to his feet as Thancred approached and stumbled a few steps back when he gave him a warning push on the arm. As he headed for the door with Thancred and Y’shtola on his heels, he glanced over his shoulder at the stricken Exarch.

“Does it upset you, Exarch,” he called, “to have something in common with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: the exarch asked for it and then got mad**
> 
> so i was _really_ close to scrapping this chapter entirely...the first draft didn't sit well and i was about to axe it completely and just write what will be the next chapter, but my buddy ItsYaBoySora talked me away from the edge hahaha pls thank him (still not sure if it sits well but better than the first draft did anyways)
> 
> he also graced me with these fucking gems because i was hurting hades so much:  
_"Hades can't control himself anymore. He lunges towards Annaiette, mouth open, but Thancred intercepts his passions. Thancred was overwhelmed by his passion to protect Annaiette, but also his burning desire to taste forbidden fruit”_
> 
> i can't hahahahaha this is amazing


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a song for y'all: [Hiding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=riBwnShBgFw)

For the first time in a long, long time, Hades paced.

After Thancred returned him to the wing and unceremoniously slammed the door shut, an unfamiliar restlessness had overcome him. Hades couldn’t even remember the last time he paced; his troubles typically sent him to sleep for hours or years at a time. 

But here—_now—_he couldn’t bear to sit and stew. 

What had come to pass in the Exarch’s dining room had been _an experience_ . While their past conversations had made it abundantly clear that he considered Annaiette a _very treasured friend_, Hades hadn’t expected the Exarch to confront him so directly. Indeed, he had intended to do the dance until he could dance no more—absolutely none of it had to be real to the Exarch, and yet the Exarch had deigned to make it so. It made him wonder if Annaiette was behaving strangely in the company of her friends—if that might be the cause of the Exarch’s increasing wariness of his motives.

He absently turned the pages of a tome in the storage room.

It was so easy to hide behind the mask of the flippant Emet-Selch the Scions so despised, but here, alone with no way to mask his own thoughts from his own mind, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering:

_Did Annaiette treasure the Crystal Exarch as much as the Exarch treasured her?_

He had not lied to the Exarch last night when he acknowledged his immeasurable and unforgivable deeds, and he had not lied to the Exarch this morning when he made no claims to deserving Annaiette’s love. That he even had the opportunity to once more feel that which had been deadened by Zodiark...it was more—so much more—than he deserved. He lived only because Hydaelyn had need of Her Champion, and he couldn’t be certain that this vessel would even survive after restoring the Warrior of Light.

After everything, it would be for the better, wouldn’t it?

He and Athena had shared a deep love that had fractured along with the fracturing of their world; was it not for the better if he spared Annaiette that terrible pain? If she treasured the Exarch—if she loved him—then having _those_ awful memories staining her heart...

After everything, would it not be better if he blotted out as many memories of himself as he could?

He stood in the middle of the storage room, clawing at his chest as a ragged sob left him.

In a futile attempt to stem the tide of self-loathing, Hades trudged out of the room and down the hallway with a hand clutching at the ache in his chest. For the first time since he arrived, he felt truly trapped—the chains had not felt half as stifling as how he now felt in this wing. He wanted to go somewhere, to anywhere that _wasn’t here_. Half-heartedly, he turned the knob on the door leading out to the Tower and found it unyielding; he pressed his forehead against the door and let out a shuddering breath.

  
  


Eventually—it might have been mere minutes or several bells but he had no concept of time—the restlessness gave way to the familiar weariness that had filled him for untold years. He sat on the floor beside the cot and rested his back against the wall with his fingers touching the floor. Amid the storm of thoughts running uncontrollably through his mind, sitting on something solid anchored him _just enough_—just enough to keep from melting into a pool of tears and anguish and screams and desperation and—

He heard the door to the Tower open and shut, and the lights of the hallway flickered on.

A familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway, and before he could find his voice, the overhead lights of the room flared on. He squinted at the sudden light.

“Oh, there you are.”

And as he blinked the discomfort away, he found Annaiette peering down at him from the hallway. His heart clenched at the sight of her: the dark lines under her eyes had grown deeper, and her skin bore a noticeable pallor he hadn’t seen the day prior. Instead of the ever-present armor and weaponry on her person she was barefoot and wore an overlarge linen shirt and slops, the combination of which only served to amplify her haggard appearance. Something about her eyes struck him—there was something unbalanced in them, as though she was just on the cusp of delirium.

And curiously, she held an orange in each hand.

“I brought oranges,” Annaiette said as she sat beside him on the floor. She held one out to him.

Hades saw a slight tremble in her hand as she dropped it into his palm.

The last remnants of her unstable aether were violently thrashing—he could almost feel it, even without the bond of the Echo. 

“The Exarch told me you were hurt last night,” Hades said slowly, carefully.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her hands: they were shaking as she tried to peel her orange.

“I just got careless while hunting. Nothing a little conjury couldn’t fix,” Annaiette replied with a thin smile. “They wanted me to stay in bed all day, but I was getting restless so I snuck out.”

A thin silence fell between them as she struggled to peel the fruit—she seemed to be having trouble grasping it.

“And now you’re hiding here, I take it?” asked Hades when it was clear she was finished speaking. He tried to keep his voice light, but the quivering of her hands was only growing more alarming—by now she had only managed to peel off a small fragment of rind. 

“I brought you the orange as payment for your silence,” she said, letting out a weak laugh.

Her smile faltered as she struggled.

Watching her fail to peel the orange was unbearable, but before he could take it from her to finish the job, she suddenly let out a grunt of frustration and tore a chunk out of it with her teeth. Juice dribbled down her chin and hands as she chewed, and she shut her eyes and slouched sullenly against the wall.

“Annaiette,” said Hades. She opened an eye to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“This was the only fruit I could find in the Tower and I can’t,” she said, her voice nearly a sob. “I’m the Warrior of Light and I’ve been defeated by a fruit.”

Though she spoke of fruit, there was pain in her eyes and in her face and Hades felt his heart aching at the sight.

“You need to rest, you’re ill,” Hades said, hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder. With his hand touching her, though, a sharp pain shot down his arm and through his very aether and he reflexively lifted his hand away. If he was feeling _that_ without the Echo, how was Annaiette even conscious?

He inwardly cringed as she tore another bite out of the orange—this time she got a mouthful of rind. Her shirt was covered in juice now.

“I don’t want to sleep.” She hunched over her knees, the dripping orange cradled to her chest. “All I see is fire and the end and the world breaking and just—” She breathed deep, and her shoulders trembled. “I don’t want to sleep.”

His heart skipped a beat. Was it the Sundering?

“If you don’t want to sleep, then what is it you intend to do?” Hades asked.

Athena’s soul—now brighter than ever—was crying within her.

“I don’t know. Eat oranges, it seems,” she replied. Her voice was muffled slightly—she had her mouth on the orange and was speaking into it.

“Surely the company of your friends would be preferable to sitting with me in what amounts to a dungeon,” he said lightly. “They would, at the very least, be able to find you a more suitable fruit.”

Annaiette wiped her face on a sleeve. “It’s—I hate for them to see me like this,” she said gloomily, her eyes toward the floor. “They’re worried enough about me as it is, and I don’t want to burden them so.”

He felt an odd sort of indignance at her words. The Warrior of Light did everything she could for her friends, and _she_ worried about being a burden to them?

“I’m sure the Exarch would beg to differ.”

She let out a small, almost voiceless laugh. “He certainly would,” she said with a smile. “He...he thinks so highly of me that I fear I will someday fail to meet his expectations. Or anyone’s, really. Even you: I failed to meet yours and you made such a fuss about it. And we weren’t even friends.”

“You _did_ kill me in the end, so I’m willing to entertain the idea that I _might_ have been wrong,” Hades said, smirking. She laughed again and turned her gaze to meet his.

“How very gracious of you,” she said as her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She let out a small sigh. “Now that you aren’t trying to kill me, I find I enjoy talking with you. Would that we had been friends then, instead of—well...”

The smile faded from her face as a melancholy descended upon it, tinged with anger, with betrayal.

Her eyes and her soul both—his heart broke at the sight of them.

He didn’t know what to say.

“We’re always talking about me,” Annaiette said in an effort to break the overlong silence. She blinked hard to ward off the approach of sleep as the thin smile reappeared on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked about you.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. “What would you like to know?”

She blinked hard again and inhaled through her teeth in her struggle to fight off sleep. “You said once that you’ve lived many lives with us,” she said once she had forced herself awake. “I know you find us disgusting, but surely you liked _something_ during those times.”

It was Hades’ turn to blink. He’d never really thought about it before; the devotion to Zodiark had turned all those experiences bitter and foul, but now, in the presence of Annaiette and in the presence of Athena’s soul, he found them somehow less loathsome than before. He sifted through the memories of that myriad of lives, and though all had invariably left him in disgust at the deficient, Sundered peoples, it was true that there had been good times, meager as they were.

He dredged up a suitable memory, one of the scant few he regarded with some measure of fondness.

“In one life long, long ago, I was a Miqo’te—or what eventually became known as such—in a tribe by the ocean,” he began. Annaiette made a face somewhere between shock and amusement but said nothing. “We were holding a festival under a full moon—a celebration of life and camaraderie. All were in high spirits, and for once food was aplenty. And for a night, we set aside all our differences to eat and dance in the glowing tide.”

Annaiette’s expression softened. “That sounds lovely.”

“It was,” said Hades. “But it didn’t last. These moments never did.”

Her eyelids looked heavier and heavier, though she was still doing her damndest to fight them. “Well, it’s nice that you had that moment,” she murmured. Her face screwed up in a grimace as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “Were you ever a Lalafell?” she asked once the yawn had passed.

Hades let out a snort of amusement. “Many times. Easily some of the worst I’ve lived,” he said, and Annaiette laughed. Her eyes were nearly closed now but even in her near-sleeping state she looked fascinated, so he continued. “No matter the era, no matter the Shard, Lalafells were—and continue to be—some of the most cutthroat beings I have ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”

Annaiette seemed amused but was finally losing her battle with sleep—Hades could see her mind drifting off whilst her face and body slowly relaxed. But with the last glimmer of consciousness still holding on within her, words were forming on her lips.

“..._why did you keep trying_…?”

The words were as a whisper that all but faded into the air, and yet they struck something in him—he stared at her now-sleeping form, startled by the question.

He had asked it himself countless times after each and every disappointing life, and though he had quickly concluded that the flawed life birthed by Zodiark was unworthy of existence, still he tried—over and over and over again.

Now, with the gnawing presence of Zodiark gone from his soul and in the glow of the hue he thought forever lost, the answer loomed in his mind, now wholly unavoidable:

He kept trying because it was by the Convocation’s prayers that this life even existed.

He kept trying because all Zodiark’s deeds were _right_ and _correct_, and thus there surely had to be some good in it somewhere.

And he kept trying because the last time he ever spoke to Athena, she had somehow—in spite of everything—found that life worthy of protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: he was a catboy once. probably a bunch of times. i bet his tail was floofy**
> 
> i was up at 4 am this morning sobbing because i just wanted to finish the goddamn chapter and i was too sleepy to write anything coherent and i must have scrapped like 3 different versions of the last 300 words.
> 
> anyways i've given up on estimating how long the chapters are gonna be. i figured this was gonna happen but it's real now lol.
> 
> A BIG THANK YOU FOR ALL THE RETURNING READERS <3 <3 <3


	13. Chapter 13

Annaiette and Hades both lay asleep in the prison.

After she had fallen asleep in a sitting position with the partially-eaten orange still cradled to her chest, Hades had carefully lifted the sleeping Warrior of Light onto the cot. She was so completely exhausted that she hardly stirred at his touch, which was all the better because she didn’t wake to bear witness to the absolutely shameful amount of effort it took for him to do this. And after he gently pulled the fleece blanket over her sleeping form—his heart had beat louder in his chest as he did so—he turned off the lights and curled up on the floor under his coat.

The sound of Annaiette’s steady breathing lulled him into an uneasy half-sleep; his thoughts clamoring far too loudly for him to do more than drift at the border of asleep and not. 

He needed to finish realigning her soon, or she would only grow more and more ill until her body gave out from the strain. Warrior of Light or not, no one could survive aetherial turmoil like that, not even an Amaurotine. And as her soul thus far amounted to just half an Amaurotine…

Hades suspected that all he had done to Annaiette on the First—from idly watching and waiting for her to take on the tainted Light of the Lightwardens to the trial that was his recreation of the fall of Amaurot to their final desperate battle itself—might have pulled at her soul in such a profound way that it left her in this aetherial predicament. If Hades was never an element in all of this, or if he and Loghrif and Mitron had enacted a different plan that sent the Shard down a different timeline, would Annaiette have even been here? Or would her problem eventually present itself with a different trigger in a different time and a different place?

What would Hydaelyn have done if She had not been afforded the chance to take his soul into Her Light? None of Her Chosen would have sufficient control over the Echo to fix Annaiette, and it was unlikely they would know _how_ even if they did. 

The thought of her soul adrift in the Lifestream crossed his mind.

He exhaled and covered his face with a hand as he tried to wipe the image from his thoughts.

By now Annaiette’s steady breaths were now punctuated with small and intermittent sounds of distress—Hades couldn’t even pretend to sleep now, not with the soft whimpers coming from the cot. He sat up, rubbing his face as he glanced in her direction in the darkness. Her distress made his heart ache, and he wondered if the Echo would be of any use to ease it; visions often got forced upon those with the Echo but he was reasonably sure it would work in the opposite direction as it would merely be a milder form of true Echo control.

Hades moved to the floor at the end of the cot and dug into his mind for something light, something pleasant. So many of his memories were covered with a film of darkness and pain but if he went back far enough and carefully peeled the film away...Annaiette mentioned once that she liked the memories with Hythlodaeus, and so it was for those he searched the depths of his mind.

Eventually he found one that might prove helpful, one in which Hythlodaeus and Athena had been enjoying themselves, and one where he himself had minimal involvement. He reached up and held a hand over her shoulder but hesitated; though he had already used the power of the Echo several times to sift through her very soul, that had been with her consent. Here he would be forcing a memory—_his_ memory—upon her…

But when she let out another whimper, he decided he could apologize later.

When his hand touched her shoulder, a pain shot down his arm and wrapped around his soul and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. That Annaiette was not already dead from the strain was a testament to her sheer force of will—unsurprising, given who she was, who she had always been. It took him a moment to center himself enough to focus; the pain wasn’t severe but it was enough that he had to carefully focus on the memory.

Faint white wisps emanated from his hand as he reached for the power of the Echo.

Though there was no bond without her answer in kind, he could almost feel the fire and soot and keening fraying the edges of her mind at the boundary where Annaiette ended and Hades began. He drew the memory forth, and though there was no bond he presented the memory regardless—through the power of the Echo, that should be enough to force her attention on it, at least for a short while. And indeed, he soon found that the fire and despair faded somewhat as interest turned to the memory he pressed toward her.

  
  


_The stars twinkled above in the evening sky as Hythlodaeus, Athena, and_ █████ _strolled through the park alongside a canal. The three of them had just finished an exceedingly busy day; none of their affairs had intersected, but they were all equally ready to call the day done. As it had been quite some time since the three of them spent time together, Hythlodaeus had suggested the walk in the park, and he first invited Athena_and then █████_. Always with the implicit understanding that_ █████ _would be sure to come along so long as Athena agreed first. _

█████_ hated how true that was, and yet_ ██ _couldn’t help but join them._

_Hythlodaeus was happy to babble about the latest in Bureau affairs, and created some of his favorite approved Concepts from the past few moons to show them. His favorites were generally the whimsical Concepts intended for children, and indeed he showed them a flower wand that with each swing emitted fluttering butterflies made of light, and a small, fluffy automaton that scampered around its master. The fluffy automaton was an old Concept but every once in a while Hythlodaeus liked to create it in different colors and pretend it was new. This always made Athena laugh and always made_ █████ _pretend not to laugh—a fact that Hythlodaeus knew well, and a fact which only encouraged him._

_Athena, in turn, was happy to describe the latest antics her Bureau had the misfortune of dealing with. One of her teams had evidently been called in to rescue an unfortunate soul who had encased their home in a soft-looking-but-actually-rock-solid material after a botched attempt at creating a better protective foam. And another of her teams had to spend some time mending a boulevard and the underground pipes and lines beneath it that had been damaged when some competitive citizens had taken their automaton battles to dangerous new heights. Athena found this offensive enough that she had taken time out of her day to personally scold them for being so reckless and endangering the people around them._

_As she was describing the depth of the shame on their faces,_ █████ _caught sight of a head-sized ball flying erratically toward them and lazily swatted it aside before it could strike Hythlodaeus. _

_In the distance_ ██ _found a small group of children standing frozen in horror at what had just happened._

_One child was eventually pushed forward by their friends—sacrificed as tribute to the Convocation, it seemed—and this child sheepishly walked up to them, their arms stiff with trepidation._

_“I’m—I’m ah—I’m terribly sorry,_ ████-█████ _,” said the child, shuffling anxiously on their feet. “Pl—please accept my—um—please accept my sincerest apologies!”_

_“Naught to worry about, little one,”_ █████ _said. “Be more careful in the future.”_

_“Y-yes, we will!”_

_Athena had gone to retrieve the ball and returned to hold it out to the child. “This ball is quite curious,” she said, smiling as she hefted it. “Did you and your friends create it?”_

_An immediate change came over the child, and an excited grin spread across their face. “Yes, we finally got it right today! It doesn’t fly straight, and it’s quite fun to try and catch it! Would you like to see?”_

_It wasn’t long until Hythlodaeus and Athena were running among the children, chasing after a ball that, true to the child’s word, did everything but fly in a straight line. And as it inevitably did with children, they soon turned their interest to something else; namely, asking the Conservator how many people she could carry, and then gleefully hanging from her arms and shoulders whilst Hythlodaeus lifted them up so they could reach._

_“Look,_ ████-█████_! These children thought I couldn’t carry all of them,” Athena called to_ ███ _when she had all five giggling children hanging off her._ ██ _watched as she walked a circle around a grinning Hythlodaeus—and though Athena had the strength to lift entire buildings, she made a big show of telling the children how very heavy they were. _

_Out of all the members of the Convocation, Athena was certainly the one with the fewest qualms about getting physical and getting dirty. It made some sort of sense; she led the teams which protected the populace and mended the city, both of which were often quite physical and quite dirty and she tended to have good rapport with many of the citizens because of it._ ██ _tried to imagine Elidibus or Emmerololth with children crawling all over them and had to stifle a laugh at the sheer absurdity. But Athena found this sort of thing to be tremendous fun._

_And that,_ ██ _thought with a small smile, was the charming thing about her._

  
  


Hades slowly woke and he felt that something was quite a bit different than he last recalled.

When his mind pulled itself from sleep, he realized _he_ was now lying on the cot under the blanket. He glanced about the room in a groggy confusion and found Urianger sitting in the lone chair, a tome open in his lap. At the sounds of movement, Urianger looked up from the tome, his face brightening slightly when he found Hades peering back at him.

“Ah, thou art awakened,” said Urianger.

“How long was I asleep?” Hades asked, frowning. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep—he had merely expected to ease Annaiette’s pain for a short while and afford her a few hours of untroubled rest.

“Six bells now, by my measure,” Urianger said with a sort of pitying smile that Hades wasn’t sure he liked. “Lest you worry, the Warrior of Light has not come to harm.” That Urianger thought to reassure him about Annaiette was telling; he supposed that Thancred and Y’shtola told him of the fiasco that was the Exarch’s too-successful attempt at prying the truth from him.

“What happened?” 

“When we discovered the Warrior of Light missing from her bed, ’twas here where we began our search. And surely, here did we find thee both asleep with thine hand upon her shoulder. Glowing, it seemed, with the power of the Echo. Though it might perhaps be more proper to describe thy condition as _unconscious_ rather than slumbering.”

Urianger appeared calm enough about the situation, but there was something subtle in his face that betrayed a sort of curiosity that made Hades narrow his eyes in suspicion. 

“What is it?”

Though Urianger’s expression did not change, he seemed oddly hesitant to speak. “‘Twas I who pulled thee away from the Warrior of Light,” he began, shifting slightly on the chair. “I witnessed a vision for but a moment—to be true, it felt more as emotion than vision, but I did witness it all the same.”

As the implication of Urianger’s words sank in, Hades felt his face growing warm.

“I giveth mine deepest apologies for the intrusion. ’Twas not mine intention to bear witness to thy memory,” said Urianger, abashed. “If it might give thee a measure of comfort, I have divulgeth not this vision to the Scions, nor to the Exarch.”

That Urianger had seen part of the memory—that he had felt a sliver of the emotion that came with it…

“If I might speak freely, Emet-Selch,” Urianger continued, and though Hades wasn’t sure he was going to like what he had to say, he nodded. “I confess that the purity of the emotion did surprise me; though we endured thy final judgment in the Tempest—the fall of thy home, and the beasts that consumed it—shamefully this vision maketh the full weight of the world lost to thee clearer in mine mind. And the vision, brief as it was, doth lend clarity to thy recent behavior, and Annaiette’s in turn.”

Hades felt his face burning, and he wished for nothing more than to sink into the Rift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: athena was the head of the fire dept and had to keep amaurot from burning down due to miscellaneous idiocy**
> 
> NOT MUCH REALLY HAPPENED HERE BUT HOPE Y'ALL FIND IT ENJOYABLE ANYWAYS
> 
> AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU ALL FOR READING <3


	14. Athena

Hades wasn’t easily embarrassed—very little could truly faze him after millenia of existence.

But here, with Urianger kindly peering down at him after bearing witness to a memory where his emotions had been very distinctly hovering on the surface of his mind…

He couldn’t stop the flush from spreading across his face.

Though Urianger didn’t laugh, the smile on his lips widened ever so slightly—in amusement, perhaps, at the stark embarrassment on Hades’ face. The amusement lasted but a moment, however; he soon got to his feet, leaving the tome on the chair. “Pray await my return. A meal would do thee a modicum of good, methinks,” he said, taking his leave without waiting for Hades to respond.

When he was left alone, Hades took a moment to cover his face with the blanket and let out a groan.

But he didn’t spend long hidden under the blanket; the last thing he needed was for Urianger to return and find Emet-Selch curled up under a blanket, consumed with humiliation. 

Though his body was weak—weak as it always was after the use of the Echo—at the very least, this time he didn’t feel as though he had been dragged from death’s grip and he was able to sit himself up without his head spinning. A small comfort, but a welcome one nonetheless. 

With a small sigh, he shut his eyes and rested his back against the wall. 

In the depths of his mind, Hades couldn’t help but think on the memory he had shown Annaiette. That time was a carefree one—not without its own problems but death and destruction and the Sundering of reality were not among them. It was paradise, and it was as close to perfection as any being could ever truly get.

_How did everything go so wrong?_

A ragged breath left him as he tried to stop the downward spiral of his mind.

Urianger’s return was a blessing—any longer and he might have dissolved into uncontrollable tears there in the room. He bore a bowl of some sort of stew and a small bread roll, which he held out to Hades as he returned to his place on the chair.

“The Warrior of Light would be much displeased if thou consumeth not a full meal,” said Urianger with a smile. “Prithee, eat that I might escape her ire.”

Hades arched an eyebrow. Annaiette had hardly even shown _him_ any outward ire until she had been pushed to her absolute limit in the Tempest. “I find it difficult to believe that your dear hero would be cross with you just because you didn’t feed the wretch in the dungeon,” he said, his lips turning up in a doubtful smile.

“Thou hast the right of it,” Urianger said, letting out a small chuckle. “Ire or not, however, Annaiette has asked naught of me in all the years past. Thus when she wished to avail herself of mine assistance, I could not in good conscience refuse her. My friend’s request was simple enough besides, and hardly the burden she so insistently claims.”

“And that is?”

“Dignity,” Urianger said simply. 

Hades furrowed his brow.

“Dignity?”

“Aye. In spite of the untold horror of thy deeds, she would not see thee treated as vermin. Least not when thou hast made no move to harm us since thine arrival.” Urianger paused a moment and thoughtfully brought a finger to his chin; he seemed torn on whether to continue. “Her request was harmless and certainly of no burden to me, thus I felt no need to pry. However if I might offer a theory: perhaps ’twas an entreaty made to match thine own offer when she was all but consumeth by the Light.”

Hades felt his breath catch in his chest—he clenched his jaw so as not to betray his disbelief at the goodwill of the Warrior of Light. 

When he had offered her dignity in the face of her impending transformation, his words bore the full intent of twisting the figurative knife he had thrust into her heart. He spoke no lies: he would have given her dignity as promised, but it was all secondary to ensuring that Hydaelyn’s Champion and her Scion friends felt every onze of the enormity of their failure. 

And Annaiette was no fool—she had to have understood the intent of his words even as the tainted Light overwhelmed her.

And after everything, _after everything_…

_ How was she real?_

His throat all but clamped shut—his voice out of reach.

Urianger crossed his legs and lay the tome open in his lap, and he pointedly kept his gaze down at the pages of the tome. “Please, do not refrain from eating on my behalf—I have already partaken of mine evening meal,” Urianger said without looking up. “If thou hast no objections, I should like to study a short while longer.”

Hades managed a nonchalant shrug.

“Far be it from me to keep a man from his studies.”

The meal and Urianger’s presence were a welcome distraction from the shame and confusion that now threatened to overwhelm him.

  
  


Not a bell after Urianger took his leave, the door burst open to reveal a breathless Thancred with desperation in his eyes.

“Get up, Ascian!” Thancred snapped. “Annaiette’s gotten worse—Y’shtola says she needs help _right now_.”

Hades required no further prompting; he leapt to his feet and snatched his shirt from the back of the chair as he hurried after Thancred, pulling it over his head as he went. His heart was pounding, liable to burst from his chest as they rushed from the wing and down a hallway that he had never seen. They entered the only open door in the hallway, where he was greeted by the sight of Urianger and the Exarch trying to get an obstinate Annaiette to lay down.

It was gut-wrenching to look at her; it was painfully obvious that she had severely declined since the previous night when she had brought him oranges—any comfort he might have afforded her with the Echo had clearly not lasted after he had been pulled away from her. Her skin was deathly pale and the trembling of her hands was more pronounced, but in spite of it all, she was still trying to sit upright without the assistance of Urianger or the Exarch. 

Any lesser being might have already died from the strain, but here she was, doggedly fighting it.

Her soul—now bright and distinctly _her_ and distinctly fighting to hold together—was slowly leaking from her body with each thrash of her remaining errant aether.

He could feel it from where he stood.

If he didn’t rein in the last of her unruly aether, it would be soon.

It would be today.  
Or it would be tomorrow.

Today, or tomorrow, she would die.

With every ilm of strength in him, he forced the thought away. He was here to keep that from coming to pass.

It was the _only_ reason he was here.

When he stood before her, she looked up and her gaunt eyes met his. There was something apprehensive in them, something that was almost fearful, but it didn’t feel as fear for herself, but fear for—

“Are you—are you sure you want to do this?” she breathed. “I know what it does to you. I just—_I can’t—_” 

His heart fractured at her words. Truly Athena, then…

“Hydaelyn sent me here to help you, and that is what I intend to do,” he said, squaring his shoulders to steel himself. 

And in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered:

_A worthy exchange._

Annaiette looked stricken but couldn’t respond. She grit her teeth clenched her eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the pain.

Or ward off death, more like.

He chanced a quick glance at the Exarch and Urianger—he met the Exarch’s eyes and found them desperate and pleading, while Urianger looked somehow regretful—

His eyes turned back to the gleam of Annaiette’s flagging soul—a hue he thought forever extinguished—and in its light the lingering longing within him swelled—

Hades dug deep for the power of the Echo and made the request of her—

For one terrifying moment he worried that she was too far gone to coherently respond to it, or that she meant to refuse it to prevent him from using the Echo. But the response eventually came, tenuous and off-kilter but still a response in kind.

A gasp of pain escaped him when the connection formed—he staggered in surprise at the state of Annaiette’s soul—despite the fragmentation its alignment and shape would have been solid were it not for the strain against her aether’s violent throes. As he worked to prevent the bond from splintering—a task that would have been trivial had he access to his full power—he noticed the strain calmed ever so slightly in response to his presence. Emboldened by this, he redoubled his efforts and slowly the bond stabilized.

The memories at the surface of her mind felt as though they were pulling her soul every which way and his grasp may as well have been a sieve with how he struggled to keep them gathered…

* * *

_Screams rent the air as flaming chunks of a tower plummeted toward the ground._

_Athena and her mages spun through the smoke and fire and dust as they scooped up as many citizens in their arms as possible—she wrapped her arms around them as she leapt through a wall of fire, the flames searing her form—with a yelp of pain she skidded across the boulevard with the citizens in her arms—behind her there was a sickening thud and the horrible scream of one of her mages—_

_She groaned and opened her arms to let the citizens go, and they dizzily got to their feet as gratitude spilled from their mouths._

_“Go to the west gate,” Athena rasped as she pulled herself upright. “We’ve set up a safe area—the Fifth Complement will be there!”_

_Awful screeches heralded the arrival of more beasts, the horrible sounds paralyzing the citizens with fear. Athena let out a strained growl and forced herself upright. “Go!” she yelled sharply, and her voice was enough to spur the citizens into action. One gasped a breathless “thank you” at her before dashing off on the heels of the others, with one of her mages leading them toward the west gate._

_She gathered her strength and leapt forward into the horde of oncoming beasts—_

* * *

_The beasts were otherworldly and defied all comprehension—neither flora nor fauna nor even a thing of Creation—they existed in a form unheard of—and they deeply hungered..._

_While they were not indestructible, they were very nearly so—she had lost the entire Third Complement in an attempt to save Sysogrant from the beasts spilling out from the massive cracks that formed in their city, and she sustained a deep wound to her face that rendered her left eye unusable and unmendable—_

* * *

_Athena turned from the window when she heard the door to her office open._

_“The Emissary has requested your presence in Sysogrant immediately, Conservator,” said the dispatcher gravely. “Halmarut, Mitron, Lahabrea, and Emet-Selch will be preparing for departure as well.”_

_“Ah. I thought he might,” Athena said as she followed the dispatcher to the elevator. “Inform Euneas that he is to act in my place while I am away.”_

_“Understood.”_

* * *

_“Mitron, Halmarut, Emet-Selch—do what you need to do quickly. We can’t hold this creature forever!”_

* * *

_There weren’t enough teams to extinguish the fires that were slowly devouring the city—not when they had their hands full evacuating citizens and clearing a safe path for them out of the city—_

_Athena and Euneas and the dispatchers were desperately struggling to coordinate the evacuation of Amaurot, but when the flames and beasts finally reached the Bureau, they sent the dispatchers to safety and leapt into the fray themselves—_

_Amaurot was filled with screams—the streets littered with rubble and fresh bodies of man and beast alike—_

_—the Capitol was ablaze—_

_—half the population was missing—_

_—and the Convocation was nowhere to be found._

* * *

_“The nuance is all wrong! It won’t work how you want!”_

_“And what would_ you _know about nuance? You merely mend that which already exists!”_

_Silence._

_“How could you say that,_ █████ _? Have I fallen so low in your eyes?”_

* * *

_Her heart was ready to burst from her chest as she stormed out of the Capitol, her red mask discarded with the Convocation and a white one now in its place. _

█████_—_██_,_ ████_-_█████_—had let her go—_

_He let her go and said nothing—absolutely nothing—_

_The tears were hot on her skin._

_The final days were approaching and instead of fighting they were going through with it—they meant to summon a god—or a shade of one, at least—_

* * *

A twinge in the bond drew his attention.

* * *

_“You’re pacing again,_ █████_.”_

_“Ah. I didn’t notice—”_

_“It’s just very unlike you,” said Athena as she got to her feet. She took_ ███ _hand and led_ ███ _toward the sofa before pulling_ ███ _down to sit, taking_ ███ _head in her hands. “Sadly we can but wait for Elidibus to send us news.” _

_She pressed her forehead to_ ███_—_███ _sighed and the tension melted out of_ ███_._

_“I don’t think we’ll be receiving good news,”_ █████ _murmured._

_“I don’t think so either.”_

█████ _gently reached_ ███ _aether toward her, to lace_ ███ _soul with hers_

* * *

As he tried to blot his face from memory, there was another twinge, stronger this time.

**_“...what was that...?”_ **

* * *

█████ _gently reached_ ███ _aether toward_ ███_, to lace_ ███ _with hers—and though they were both fraught with_ w̬͍̮̠ͪ͢ͅõ̀̈̋ͧ̉҉̜̫̳̳̮ͅr͐̉̂́ͣ҉r͇̮̺̖͕͆ͧͤ̌͐̄̀ỵ̓ͨ̃ ̅͊̀ȁ̟͔͍̻̑͌ͭ̈́̚̚͝n̼̝ͫͪ̈͂̓ͅd̷͇̯̅̔ͣ ̡̯͉̹̲̤͎̗́́ͭͮͮ͛͆t̶̰̝̼̬̰̫͑̒̉͒̓̿ͨr̲̥͓̈́e̛͖ͣ̄̾ͬ̓p͙̄͊͌̋̆ͧ̒i̶͇̘̫͉͛d̝̍ͥ͋̀̄̍́̚a̤̔͊ͦ̀ͥ̎̌t̙̠͙̹̖͇i̤̝̰͙͔͕͒̾͡ͅo͏̙̪̱̱̲̱n̟̟̺̎ͨ̒ͅ,

* * *

A voice cut across the bond.

** _“What is that?”_ **

Dread filled him.

* * *

█████ g̑͂͐̃e̴̻͉͂̎̑̈̒n̙͖͇̠tͤ̿ͣ͗̍ͯͭl̳͚ͯ͌ͤͣ̉ͪ͑ÿ̪͎̤̩̯̞́͌ͣ́ͩͭ̉͞ ͎͒ṟ̳̬͕̹ͭ͜e͑ͨ͗͏͖̫͕̞̹̳â͖͇͈̥̱͚͌ͭ̄̈́c̲̩̤̩̼ͮ̽͂́̽͌͞ͅh̹̑̌̌ͯ̾ͮ͋e̗̮̲͑͂͒͗̓ͭ̾dͩ͛͐͌҉̱̹̬ͅ ███ a͙ͬ̒̾ë͏̘̟ẗ̤̱̰́̅ͣͮ̀ḧ̜̩̟͚̣͕̪e̝̭ṟ̳̜ͬ̉͢ ̨̬̬̺̾͋ͨ̑̚ͅt̃̒̈́̔͢o̳̰̹̝͙̭͐̎w̬̭̞̖̩̹ͧ̈ͫ̉͑ḁ̘̟̗̲̱̕ͅr̮d̳̥̦̠̱ͥ̉ͭ͌ ███, tͨ͐ͥ̂̉̊̚͏̰̰̺̪͇õ̬̜͙̟ͤͅ ͩ̓̉̆̀ͬ͟l͙̻͔̭̳̣̱ͣ̊͡a̪̻c̮ͭ̾̾̒e̶͉ ███ _with hers—and thou̵gh͠ ̛th̸ey w̧ere̵ bo͠th̴ ̸fra͠u͢gh̶t͏ with_ w̬͍̮̠ͪ͢ͅõ̀̈̋ͧ̉҉̜̫̳̳̮ͅr͐̉̂́ͣ҉r͇̮̺̖͕͆ͧͤ̌͐̄̀ỵ̓ͨ̃ ̅͊̀ȁ̟͔͍̻̑͌ͭ̈́̚̚͝n̼̝ͫͪ̈͂̓ͅd̷͇̯̅̔ͣ ̡̯͉̹̲̤͎̗́́ͭͮͮ͛͆t̶̰̝̼̬̰̫͑̒̉͒̓̿ͨr̲̥͓̈́e̛͖ͣ̄̾ͬ̓p͙̄͊͌̋̆ͧ̒i̶͇̘̫͉͛d̝̍ͥ͋̀̄̍́̚a̤̔͊ͦ̀ͥ̎̌t̙̠͙̹̖͇i̤̝̰͙͔͕͒̾͡ͅo͏̙̪̱̱̲̱n̟̟̺̎ͨ̒ͅ, ████ ████ ██████ ██ ████ █████’█ █████—

* * *

**_“What are you hiding?”_ **

His blood ran cold, and panic took control. 

* * *

█████ ██████ ███████ ███ ██████ ██████ ███, ██ ████ ███ ████ ████—███ ██████ ████ ████ ████ ███████ ████ █████ ███ ███████████, ████ ████ ██████ ██ ████ █████’█ █████—███ ██████ ███████ ██ █ ██████ “█ ████ ███” ██████ ████ ██ ███—

* * *

**_“What are you hiding from me?”_ **

He opened his eyes and chanced a look at her—

She was near doubled-over, the Exarch holding her upright, awash in the white glow of the Echo.  
She slowly looked up to meet his gaze, and there was  
pain, and desolation—

“What are you hiding from me?” she breathed.

He couldn’t answer—he didn’t know how—

“Hades, what are you hiding from me?” she breathed,  
louder this time.

“I’m—Annaiette, I—” 

And within the bond,

and without the bond:

** _“What are you hiding from me?!”_ **

“_What are you hiding from me?!_”

Her soul was reaching out through the bond—through the pain and turmoil of  
the last obstinate portion of her errant aether 

It felt familiar—it felt so very familiar—  
he ached for it and couldn’t stop her

Their shared memory of that moment and the feeling of her soul now—  
both had drawn forward his memories of their time together—

everything was cascading uncontrollably at the touch of her soul

  
and he ached for it

and he couldn’t stop her

  


_They walked in the park with Hythlodaeus after a meeting of the Convocation—knuckles brushing up against the other’s whenever the opportunity arose—it certainly wouldn’t do for two Convocation members to be so blatantly obvious and so here they were—_

_Lahabrea was going on and on past his allotted time about some sort of development at Akadaemia Anyder, and they exchanged subtle looks of boredom across the Convocation assembly chamber—she saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly, and hers did in turn—_

  
  


_In the outskirts of the city, when all the work was done, they shared soft kisses in the dappled sunlight under the canopy of the forest—_

  
  
  
  


_She gently ran her fingers through his hair as they sat together in his home—he’d had a particularly trying day and all of his frustrations were pouring out of his mouth—and whenever she made to pull her hand away, his head pressed toward it—_

  
  
  
  


_They breathlessly—hungrily—voraciously—pushed on and in and around each other—bodies and souls entwined as one there in her bed—their aether singing and the universe twinkling and together they approached release—_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Hades gently reached his aether toward her, to lace his with hers—and though they were both fraught with worry and trepidation, they took solace in each other’s souls—_

_the gentle whisper of a shared “I love you” filled them as one_

  


A piercing pain shot through him as the bond splintered and collapsed—

He could hardly see—his vision was clouded with darkness—

He found himself in Urianger’s arms—caught in time before he collapsed to the floor—

Annaiette was doubled over, clutching her head, screaming—and her screams became sobs—

still clutching her head, the Exarch holding her as her shoulders shook—

“_—could you, how could you, how could you, h—”_

he couldn’t move and he couldn’t breathe—  
his body was failing him and he was just conscious enough to look on in horror

she weakly raised her head to look at him, and 

when she met his gaze he saw the glimmer of  
recognition and remembrance in her eyes

“Hades,” she gasped

but the remembrance

came with ** _remembrance_ **

“_Hades.”_

and in her eyes there was betrayal and so much pain as  
she struggled to stay conscious and tried not to vomit 

and with the last of his strength he breathed,

“_Athena_.”

there were tears in her eyes and the hurt  
of a thousand thousand years and as her  
body gave out she let out a ragged sob, 

“—y_ou don’t get to say my name—”_

and the darkness took him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: well shit**
> 
> music 4 u: [No Light, No Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc)
> 
> related to the above:  
7 years ago i made [this music slideshow thing synced to that song](https://did-you-reboot.tumblr.com/post/23630941947/note-for-best-results-please-use-firefox-or-ie9) (note: first frame doesn't render in chrome, just give it a bit to get going). i realized it works really fuckin well with the rat man but i don't have the time or energy to draw 60 frames of art after work. SO. **you'll just have to use your imagination** and pretend that wheatley is hades, GLaDOS is hydaelyn, and chell is WoL lol. pls enjoy. or not. you're your own person.
> 
> as always, thank you everyone for continuing to read this story! <3 <3 i love you all so much <3


	15. Chapter 15

He faced the precipice and stared into the abyss.

He couldn’t remember why he was here.

The edge of darkness pulled at him. 

_After everything, it was where he belonged._

But he looked back over his shoulder.

There was nothing and no one, in this barren land.

The edge of darkness pulled at him. 

But he hesitated.

He knew but one thing, here at the precipice:

_After everything, he still had something he needed to do._

* * *

_“What in the seven hells did he do to her?”_

_“I cannot say. However, her aether is very nearly healed now, which is a small comfort with her in this state.”_

_“She’s clearly unwell! If not her aether, then what’s wrong with her?”_

_“I said it was_ nearly _healed, Alisaie. There is one last piece, almost as a thorn within her. A very dangerous thorn, if not dealt with soon.”_

_“But what can we do? Emet-Selch was the only one who could help.”_

_“Is he still alive?”_

_“...only just. His pulse is weak.”_

_“Tch. What was Annaiette saying before she passed out? Something about him hiding something?”_

_“That Emet-Selch was hiding something should come as no surprise. It was foolish of me to trust him...truly foolish...and now Annaiette is...”_

_“Prithee, do not be so hard on thyself, Exarch. ’Tis true that what came to pass was disastrous, but I am not of the mind that Emet-Selch acted thus to hurt the Warrior of Light.”_

_“Awfully diplomatic of you, Urianger. Know something, do you?”_

_“I knowest naught for certain. Theories, however, I—”_

_“What does it matter his intentions? They mean nothing if Annaiette is lost to us.”_

_“Exarch…”_

* * *

_“Is she still sleeping?”_

_“She woke a handful of times, but only ever for a few moments. I couldn’t make out what she was saying before she slipped away again.”_

_“Get some rest, Alisaie. I’ll watch over her.”_

_“Watch over the Exarch while you’re at it, will you, Thancred? He fell asleep about a bell ago—he’s exhausted.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“Is my brother awake?”_

_“He’s with Y’shtola and Urianger.”_

_“Have they found anything?”_

_“No. Nothing they didn’t already find when this all started. Is the Ascian still alive?”_

_“He’s still breathing, I suppose.”_

* * *

_“There’s something I’ve noticed, Exarch, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”_

_“Hmm? What’s that, Y’shtola?”_

_“She obviously doesn’t have the strength or presence of mind to do it right now, but every so often she tries to invoke the teleportation spell.”_

_“What? In her sleep? Have you any idea where she might be trying to go?”_

_“Unfortunately, no. But our friend is not one to run from her troubles, so I suspect her intent is something else altogether...”_

* * *

_“It’s no use, he’s not waking and none of our healing magicks are affecting him. I don’t know how much longer he may be able to hang on.”_

_“To think we actually want the likes of him alive for once. Hmph.”_

_“As it stands, imploring Emet-Selch for help once more is our last and final resort. But...that’s meaningless if he dies now.”_

* * *

_“Her shivering is getting worse. She—oh, Lyna. What is it?”_

_“I’ve brought a visitor, sir.”_

_“Lyna, this isn’t a good time for—Ryne!”_

_“Ryne, what are you doing here?!”_

_“I was told to wake him.”_

_“What? No, don’t get close to him—”_

_“Thancred, get out of the way! The Mother told me to wake him, I need to wake him!”_

* * *

He faced the precipice and stared into the abyss.

He couldn’t remember why he was here.

The edge of darkness pulled at him 

until it was cleaved by a blinding light.

** _“Wake up!_ ** **”**

The abyss split in twain and the Light poured in.

He wanted to run from the torrent approaching him, but he hesitated.

**“_Wake up!_**”****

The Light churned and twisted as it raced through the abyss toward him.

**“_Emet-Selch, please! Wake up!_”**

The Light was upon him and he couldn’t move—it crashed over him and around him and through him and pulled him apart—

There was a terrible, searing pain and he was all but consumed by the Light—

It was unbearable—it felt as though his very soul was on fire—

—a terrible scream escaped him—his back arched at the pain spreading from his chest—when his lungs could take no more, Hades’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for air—

And found himself surrounded by Scions, with the Oracle of Light at his side.

“Where am I?” he sputtered, clutching at his chest and breathing heavily as the pain slowly faded.

“You haven’t gone anywhere,” said Thancred, scowling. “You’re still here, and Annaiette’s nearly dead because of you.”

He felt horror grip his heart.

“What—no—where is she?” he asked, grimacing as he forced himself to sit up—his arm nearly buckled underneath him.

The Exarch stepped forward, and the carefully controlled rage was clear on his face. “I think we ought to have a talk with you,” he said slowly, his voice venomous. The Oracle looked to the Exarch apprehensively.

“But...but he needs to finish. The Mother said _immediately_—” 

“I don’t care, I want an explanation,” the Exarch said, his ears flat against his head. Hades could see his crystalline fist quivering. “What have you done to Annaiette? Tell us _now_, Emet-Selch.”

“I’ve done what your Mothercrystal has asked of me,” Hades began. “I’ve been realigning—”

“You and I both know that’s not the entire story,” the Exarch interrupted, stepping to the bedside to stare him in the face. “You’ve been hiding something this entire time, and it ends now.”

“I told you, I’m—”

“_Emet-Selch!_ I don’t care for whatever _shite_ you’ve been telling us. The whole truth, _now_,” the Exarch snarled, and his swear caught Hades off guard—and everyone else, it seemed, as the Scions exchanged bewildered looks behind the Exarch’s back.

Hades looked from the murderous eyes of the Exarch, to the Oracle who had pulled him from the brink of death at Hydaelyn’s behest, to the imposing Scions who were ready to kill him at a moment’s notice...

There was no way to talk himself out of this one. Not anymore.

The whole truth, then. 

Whether they liked it or not.

Whether the Exarch liked it or not.

“Very well. Very well, then,” he said quietly. “What has Annaiette told you of what ails her?”

“You are trying to deflect the question,” the Exarch snapped. 

“No. It will tell me where I must start the story.”

The Exarch looked like he might strike him across the face, but he crossed his arms instead. “She has told me of dreams—nightmares about the hell you put them through to get to me.”

_ So she told them nothing…_

Hades let out a heavy sigh. 

“Then we start at the beginning.”

“That is where stories start, Ascian,” Thancred said irately.

Hades couldn’t even bring himself to fire back, and he breathed deeply to steel himself. 

“We begin when the world was still whole, when Amaurot still stood. And we begin with the soul of the Warrior of Light. Ath—Annaiette’s soul,” Hades began as he struggled to push the dread in his stomach down. “In the days of Amaurot, she...”

He felt as though he was pulling a serpent from his throat. 

But the Exarch looked expectant, his eyes demanding he continue, and so—

“In the days of Amaurot, she held the fourteenth seat of the Convocation.”

The Scions were silent in their confusion.  
But he could see the wheels turning in their heads—

“Wait, the Convocation?” Alphinaud suddenly said in alarm. “Then that means—do you mean to say that Annaiette is an—do you mean to say that she is an _Ascian?_”

“There is no way that Annaiette could be the same as _them_,” the Exarch growled.

Hades swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“Let me finish. She was the Conservator—the head of the Bureau that protected the city and its people.” His throat was tightening—his chest was aching—he could feel tears approaching. “She didn’t agree with the plan to summon Zodiark, and so she vacated her seat—and I didn’t try to stop her.”

He swallowed again in an attempt to loosen his throat.

“After the Sundering, I—I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Least not until the Rejoining. But all of you arrived here in the First, and there she was, seven times Rejoined...But I couldn’t see the true hue of her soul. Either I was blinded by Zodiark, or I had buried the hue too far within over the thousands of years. When Hydaelyn pulled me from death and gave me the Echo, the color returned, and I realized that everything I had done, I had done to _her_...”

He trailed off when words failed him, and a tense, nauseating silence filled the room.

Then realization within them slowly took root—their eyes widening—their bodies tensing—and soon the Exarch was quivering with rage. 

“You were her _friend—you were her friend_ and you did all of that to her!” he spat.

The ache in his chest wrapped around his lungs—he couldn’t breathe.

Hades covered his face with a hand and shook his head. 

“Not just a friend,” he said, his voice cracking. He breathed in sharply and tried to stifle the sobs building within him, and he could barely get the words out. “Not just a friend.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at them.

“I loved her—_I loved her_. And I let her take the tainted Light—I laughed as she was becoming a beast—I tried to kill her—and through all of that, I didn’t know—I didn’t see—” 

Tears were spilling between his fingers.

“Annaiette’s dreams—they aren’t just dreams. They are memories: memories from her Unsundered self, from her life in Amaurot,” he said hoarsely. “After everything I had done here in the First, her soul was breaking apart trying to reconcile the memories—pulling them into place with the Echo is what calms her aether...”

There was another silence, and it felt as though their eyes and their anger and their judgment were bearing down upon him.

“Does she know? Does she know the truth about you?” the Exarch asked finally.

Hades couldn’t look him in the eye.

“No. She knows that I know what the memories are, but that’s all.”

“What were you hiding from her?” 

Hades could hear how the Exarch was gritting his teeth. He breathed deep and let out a quivering breath. 

He could hardly eke the words out of his throat, and his voice was no louder than a strained whisper:

“I was erasing myself from the memories of our time together.”

But saying the words plainly to them made the enormity of his deeds even clearer, and his heart crumbled in his chest.

There was a pause—muted breaths of shock—

“You were—_you were what_ —?!” the Exarch spat in indignant disbelief. “And _what?_ You hoped that without yourself in those memories, you might start over? You might win her back? Is that it?”

“No,” Hades said, with a small shake of his head. “No. I didn’t want her to know that the man she had loved had done what he did. I feared she would be disgusted with me, though I know I deserve no less...”

The Exarch narrowed his eyes, and Hades could feel the disgust emanating from every ilm of his body.

“You’re a coward.” 

The Exarch said it slowly.

The Exarch said it, his voice full of scorn. 

The Exarch said it again.

“_You’re a coward_.”

Hades could only nod and bow his head. 

“I know,” he whispered.

“Who are you to decide what she does and doesn’t remember?” the Exarch demanded. “What gives you the right?”

He let out a rattling sigh. “This vessel is ill-suited for the strain of the Echo. I didn’t wish to return to her those happy memories and then immediately die and break her heart anew,” said Hades quietly. “Nor did I want memories of me to taint her feelings if she loved another—if she loved _you_.”

Another tense silence, and he heard the Scions shifting uncomfortably in place.

“I harbor no delusion that Annaiette would welcome any affections from me, and never did. My intention—as it ever has been—as I have been telling you _since the beginning_—has been to help her as Hydaelyn requested, and then return to the oblivion from which I was snatched.”

The silence was deafening.

“I asked you in the beginning, Exarch, if you would like what you found if I fixed your hero,” said Hades, looking to a stricken Exarch who was all but quivering in disbelief and anger. A faint flush was creeping up the Exarch’s face.

Hades gave him a searching look. “I should hope that after everything, your answer remains the same.”

The Exarch was silent—his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching—and for a worrisome moment Hades thought the Exarch was about to renounce Annaiette then and there.

But the Exarch quickly stood resolute.

“Of course. She will always be dear to me. Nothing has changed that.”

_ Good._

“You had me for a moment, Exarch,” said Hades, forcing a smirk onto his tearstained face; he was pleased to see that the Exarch bristled with irritation at his tone. “Now, the sooner you allow me to finish what I started, the sooner your dear hero will be in fighting form, and the sooner I’ll be—”

The words caught in his chest, but he forced them out—

“—the sooner I’ll be gone.”

The Exarch regarded him for a long, long moment. His eyes narrowing, his ear twitching. 

And finally, he stepped aside.

On the other side of the room stood a bed where Annaiette lay asleep, and he felt his heart wrench. 

_Her soul, glowing brightly within her, was crying out in pain._

Without another thought, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and desperately hoped his legs would hold him. When his legs bore his full weight, it became immediately obvious that his body was too weak—but Urianger had evidently been standing in wait and almost immediately hooked an arm under his armpit to pull him upright.

“Thank you,” Hades said quietly as Urianger helped him limp to the chair at Annaiette’s bedside. He wondered if the Scions would have left him on the floor and watched him crawl his way forward; in this moment, he was deeply grateful for Urianger’s presence.

“Not at all,” Urianger replied with a small smile, releasing Hades’s arm as he eased into the chair. Urianger took a step back, but just the one—he silently stood vigilant just behind the chair.

Hades exhaled slowly at the sight of Annaiette. She was shivering in spite of the fleece blanket thrown over her and the pallor of her skin had not improved since he last saw her. From his place on the chair, he could feel the last, obstinate part of her aether—it was as a spear piercing through her soul, and if he didn’t resolve this final piece...

His eyes beheld the light of her soul—though incomplete, it shone with a familiarity he had sorely missed.

_ After everything—and despite everything—he was happy to have seen it again._

And with the last of the strength he could pull from this vessel, Hades reached out with the power of the Echo. He wasn’t sure what manner of response he might receive from an unconscious Annaiette, but he dearly hoped there would be something... 

Hades felt the air leave his lungs at the sudden, desperate pull of her aether—and before he could present the question—before he could make the request—he heard a word on the surface of his soul.

** _“Please.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: morning coffee 2: electric boogaloo**
> 
> this is the longest fuckin fic i've ever written wowie
> 
> as always, i love everyone! <3 thanks for continuing to read <3 <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter was posted at the same time as chapter 17 so smash that Next Chapter button and like and subscribe and sdlfkjdf**

** _“Please.”_ **

The request—one word but overwhelming in its magnitude—hit him with the weight of a thousand worlds.

  
  


It was her—

_ It was her_—

  
  


It was her and the aether that would erode him if he didn’t carefully, doggedly keep it at bay—

It was her and the memories pressed forward, as though begging him to take hold—

  
  


It was her and what the Oracle had just done to him which somehow drew those memories close—

  
  
  


It was her and the fraught desperation in her final bid to survive—

  
  
  
  


It was her and the request.

  
  
  
  
  


He gave his answer, immediate and unequivocal:

  
  


** _“I am here. I am here for you.”_ **


	17. Hydaelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I posted this chapter at the same time as chapter 16, so head back one chapter if you came straight here!**
> 
> One music: [What the Water Gave Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=am6rArVPip8)
> 
> I zalgo'd a lot of text in this chapter for the aesthetic, but **you can find the un-zalgo'd text in the following link** in case you find it hard to read or if your browser is being stupid: <https://did-you-reboot.tumblr.com/post/189008132612/saudade-chapter-17-hydaelyn>

_Sysogrant had been overrun by the m̶͜ons̡͜͠t͘͝ro̴u͟͏s͜,͟ ̛͡t̸́͠e̸͘͞r̷̡̢r͘͞i̢̢̢f̢̡͝y̢͜i̴n̶g̢̡ ̢͟b҉̴̸e͡a̢s̢ts҉ ̵̸҉i͝n͞ ̀͏s͝p͏̛͢i̢̨͢t́̀͜e ͘o̡̧͏f̛̛̀ ͢e̷̴̴v̶̵̡e̵ry̢͘͟t̷̴h͜͞͡i̢͡ng̵͞ ̶t́͢h̛e̡y҉ ̶̴̕h̵̛a̧d͏͡ ̕͞t̨͢r̡̨͝i̷̛e̡̨d̛,͢͝ and they had tried everything they could in the short amount of time they had. They had captured one and sent it back to the Akadaemia for study, but it was soon undeniable that nothing short of brute force was going to vanquish the terrors. Athena had sent for the Third and Fourth Complements to clear them out of the city, and for a short while they held the creatures at bay; just as they grew comfortable, however, a larger one emerged, one more monstrous a͢nd́͞͡ ͜҉̕m͠҉o҉̀͡re ̶p͜ǫw҉er̕͢f̧u͢͠͏l̶͠ ̛̀thąn͏̡ any̸thi̕n̷g̸ ̧t̛hèy h̶a͟d y̛et̨ s͏e̛e̶n̷. _

_They felled it at the cost of the entire Third Complement. And even then, their sacrifice hadn’t been enough: when it became clear the city was lost, Sysogrant’s leaders had urged the Convocation to flee—to survive that they might save others. The Convocation made a hasty—humiliating—shameful—heart-rending r̪̍ḙ̥̙̰̰̘̗̿͂ͩ̓͟t̴̏̄̓ṟ̰̹̲͍͊̌ͧͧͫẹ͙̲̪̝͇̫ͦ͒͗a͛ͬ͆͆̆ͮ҉͈̠̲͓̣͖ţ̝ back to Amaurot, and it was there that the entirety of the Convocation now gathered._

_Lahabrea had suggested gathering the Convocation at the Akadaemia rather than their formal assembly chamber in the Capitol, no doubt to have researchers within immediate reach. There, they discussed with increasing urgency the fall of Sysogrant and their options to protect Amaurot and its citizens. The beast they had captured had already yielded useful but troubling information—Lahabrea suspected t̶̴̨h̢͏ȩ̷͝y̧͢͟ w͢e͢r͘͟e҉ ̀w͝ro̷u̧̢g͏̨̕h̴t̢ ̢̡͟o̡͜f͏̸ f͟è͞a͢͟r̨̕ ą͝n̢̕d̶̕ ̴̛d̷͝͞ré̷ád͢͟—_

_Her wound, too, yielded troubling information; it had somehow penetrated far, far deeper than the mere physical—there was a deep ache that seemed to pierce through the surface of her soul. Ne̷it͠he̸r͏ she̸ ̛nor͜ H͞alm̸ar͏ut ͞n͠o͘r͘ I͜g͠e̶y̵ohr̶m c͠ould̡ men͝d̀ th̀e ͡wound ͝no͠r h̀e͡r e̸y͏e͝, and though the bleeding had stopped, it remained open and developed a disturbing purplish sheen. When the meeting was suspended to afford the Convocation a moment of rest, Athena found herself in the Akadaemia infirmary where her face played host to the ministrations of the researchers as they tried to make sense of what the beasts had done to her._

_There were a myriad of uncertainties about what the beasts had done, but one thing was clear: t͠h̡e҉r̵e ͟was ̸t̸o be ͟n̵o e҉a̡śy re͞c͞o̕v̕èry̢ ìf̀ o̵ne҉ ̀was̴ ͞w̸oun̴d͢ed i̵̫͕̪̺̤̣͕̽ͧn̨͉̯̏ ̿̑ͬ̔͟f̵̺̘̳̽͗i̴̒ͩ̓ͭǵ̭͍̭͔h̜̺͉̗̭ͯt̝͚̪̖͈̭̿͑́i̻͕ͬ͊̈́ͭ̉n͚̪͔̥͈̤̻͌ͧ̿g̲̟̭̖̘̦̋̔ͥͣ̉͟ ̲͓͎̯̙̾̋̔ͮ̃͡ͅt͌͒̌͒̍͏ḩ̩͂̊̽ͫ̓͊ͥẽ̩͇̝̣̞́͠m͍͇̝̠͚̥ͬͬ̆̽̚._

_Finally, when the researchers had finished all their poking and prodding and swabbing, she wearily sent them away to find the Fourth Complement, that they might poke and prod_ **_them_** _and gather more information from their wounds. Igeyorhm, though, insisted that Athena spend the night in the infirmary to allow some time to monitor the wound, and though she ached to sleep in a familiar bed, she relented._

_H͡ade̴s ͞şat ͝q̢u̢ie̵t̴ly͏ ́a̷t hèr ́be̡dsįd́e̕ w͘ith her͏ ̶h́a̵nd̴ ͢in͠ ̸h̸i̕s͞ ͢a͠s̀ ̧he ̢g͘e̵n͠t̛l͝y ҉ran ̕his ͢tḩumb ͟ov҉er ͞he͏r͏ ̛knucklès.͟ H҉e ͘remai̵ned̕ ̀silen̡t҉ ̀but ţh͠ey ͝ha҉d̴n’̵t͜ an̛y ҉n҉eéd̸ t̡o ͞śp҉eák—s̷̢he ̷f̷͡͏e͞l͜t҉ ͢t͢͞h҉͟͏e̢͘ ͜e͡n̢͘t͝i͟҉̀re̷t҉y̨͡ ̕͏͜o̧f̢ ҉h̴i̕s̴̶ ̧͝ẃòr͏͡ry͞ ͞an̡͘͜d̕ ҉dr͜e͞ad҉͠ ͞͞a̶n̵͟ḑ ̢҉̛s̡o̡͠͞r͘r̷ow an͡d̢ pul̛le͏ḑ ̷t͠he͜m c̸l̷ose s̶o͝ ̷as͝ ͞to͘ ͢s̨h̕are̕ the̢ ͟bur͟de͠n͢._

_A̦̲̺͓͇͖̞͐̽̄ͪͣ̍̽n͎̱̪̯͖̑ͧͬ̒ͣ͢d̳̻̲̖͈̹̈́ͣ̎ͮ̑ ̜̝̹̼̼̅͆͑̔͒w̞͎̤̓ͅh͎ͨͧ̓ͅa̝͇͈͈͋̋ͣ͑ṯ̨͕͉̮̫̻,̙͓̤͍͂ ͈̹͛͛ͩr̢̩̙͚̋̈́ͤ͑̈́̐e͗̒̍̄̚͏ḁ̺̺̘̿̋ͮͯ͆l̡̹̞l̳̩̅̇͂y̭̮͚͇̥̗̾͡ͅ,̴̮̬͔̗̰̜̗́̿̓͂̾ ͖͚̩͎͋̾̋̃́͊͜c̤̓͑̒̐ͮ̍̎o̬̊͊̔͑̈̈̑̀ŭ̧̯̠̭̖͚͓ͨl̖̭̂̅ͭͥͭ̆ͅd̖͘ ̱͚̙̠̮͈̮ͥ̓̈́̍́̓ͥb͈̾ͦ̏͋͞e͎̋̏̂ͨͥ̎́ ̘̰͇ͥͫͧ̒̀̽͢ş͇̠̮̮ͦ̔a͉͓̫̘̣̍̈́ͥ̑̿i̦̮̞̲̍͆͒͞d̵͔͎̖͐͒̀?_

* * *

_“If we evacuate those who cannot fight, then we may stand a chance. We secure safe zones and form an evacuation plan for the citizens, and then we may fight the beasts as they come without concern for casualties. We fight them with our full strength, and w͞e ͜f̵i̴gh̕t̸ ̢witḩou̡t͞ ̡conc҉ern f̷or͞ ̨da͜m͜a̵g͠e. We fight together—we can do this_ tͯͬ̏͑͊̍o̊̌̾ͦ̄ͦ̚͏gȩ̇̽t̷͛̌ͩ̂̓̚h̡̏eͩͧ̅̅̋r̷̿_.”_

_Athena cast her eye around her peers, and found all of them bearing some level of doubt and uncertainty._

_“To put our people in danger as such...” Emmerololth murmured, a frown on her lips._

_“We cannot merely evacuate—w̨e҉ m͠u̶st ͠f͜igh҉t ͜i̵f ́we̴ ͡h̷ope to h͞ave a̴n͝y ͜c̨h͡a͞nc̛e͟ o̵f ̸su̶rvíval,” Athena said hotly. This argument had been going in circles for nearly a day now, which was taking away what precious little time they had to prepare a full-scale evacuation plan for Amaurot._

_Mitron scoffed. “Your words have been naught but lofty ideals better suited for childrens’ bedtime stories!”_

_She bristled with indignation and made to speak when Lahabrea held up a hand to stop her._

_“Enough, Fandaniel. These beasts have emerged from Creation itself, an͏d͟ ̢͘͡i͠҉̢t͏͡ i̛͘͜s̷̸ ̨͠͠sm̛̕͜á͞ļ̸͘l-̛́m̧͡͡i̸̡n͘ded̨ ̸̕͟a͟͞n͡͝d̴ p̸̧u͏re̶̛ ͠fo̕͠l̵͏̡ly to expect to save our star with brute force.”_

_“It is not merely force that beats them back! You didn’t f̡̬̞̟̘͕ͭͯ̊i̶̗̠͕̫͍̫͚̽͂g͎̎ͩͩ̊̊͊ͮh̊̄̈t̵͎͕̦͚͚͍̳́ ͙͉͖̖͕ͣͦ̉̿̂̔̍́ͅt̩͚͉̹͉͡ḫ̨͙̦̺̤̦͌͑̈̒̂͒e̮̦͔̍ͥͯ͂͛͋ḿ̲͉̪—you didn’t feel it! It’s facing—”_

_“And look what you have to show for it!” Nabriales interrupted. “An unmendable wound, and the blood of the Third Complement on your hands. Y͓̠̯̲̞̹̐̾̾͒̍o̪̜̭̬̪̙ͨͩ̋̆ù̻͖̗̭͇̦͚̍̃ͭ̈̃ ͖̤w̘͖͔̜͛̋ͪo̠̳ͪ̀̑u͔̘̮̱̙͎͋̈́̎l̮̙̥̞͈̦̆d͖͖̦̲ͮͅ ̣͕͍̟̲͓ͧ̏ͣ̌ha̋̐͂v̯̰̳̞̟͗ͬͫ͊͋̒̔ͅê͖̻̞͗ͪ͂̀ ͮͥͥt̝h̦̼ͯ̑̆͒͋e̖̪̘̝͈ͅ ̤̖̎b͔̻̙̤ͧ̓l͙͈̯̤̿͂̄̏̒ö̦̜̖ȍ̹͇̘̘̘̤͐̌̍ď͕̪̗͓̪̆̎ͨͩ ̱̟̎ͨͤ͋o̳̼̖ͨ̆ͪͣf̙̮̭̮͇̲̄̈́̒͂ ̥̖̘̽̐͋͛̿̇a̬̣l̪̳̗̭̳͂l̩̞ͅ ̝̥̻͙͈͓́̀̓̚̚o̹͚̭͔̯̮͚ͤͣ̅f̤̜̹̟͕̣̉ͣͧͨͫ ͭ̅̓A̠͓̯͇̭̎̏̽͂m̠͉͐̓ͩͮͨ̍a̩̖͍̹̞̭̮̾̄̀͊͌͂ṵ̥̝̄ͫ̐̍͐ͯ̚r̪̙̭̽ͬ̆̉͆̄ö̇̂͊͐͛̚t̿̀̆̇?”_

_Athena was nearly shaking with rage. How dare he—_ **_ḣ̪̦̫̥̞̝ͅo̗̳̙̬̰͚̖̎̄ͤ̀w͕̋͌̌ͪ͘ ̠͕͈͓d͕̞̝̻͜ͅḁ̧͉͔̫̈́̓̊͌̔͊͐r͉̯̖̀ͧ͋ͮͦ̀e̛͈͈͓ ̗͍͓͇͐ͮ̉ͨh̳e̢_**_—_

_“I said_ **_enough_**_, Fandaniel,” Lahabrea warned._

_The silence felt as a thread on the verge of snapping; Athena felt the entirety of the Convocation staring her down—she felt their judgment and their scorn burning into her—_

_Hades’s voice cut through the tension._

_“We must needs rewrite the laws of Creation itself to rid the star of this blight.”_

* * *

_“The nuance is all wrong! I̯̮͗͐̀̾̐t̩̞͒ͨ̈́ ͋͂ͩ̈͗ͬw̮̦̤̝̞̙o̮̊̇̇̃n͌̇̋̉'͍̖̟͔̼̗t͉̼͍̓͛ͩ͌͛́͌ ̹͈͙̭̲͌ͥ͒͂̐̚ͅw̳̼̰̽͌ͣo͖̲̗͒͑̅̊ͫ͋ͥr͉̠͍̗̯̲̱ͬͦ̈́̀͂k̰͇͕͇̟͍̙͑͂ ̻͎͚͓̻̜̝ͮ̈h̺ͮͯͨó̯͍͎̰͍̫͑ͧ̉̋͊w̹͈͔ͯͥͦ̽ ̹̮̜͕̩̤̰ͧy̘̤̫̬̟̹̳͂̽o͖̥̖̺̹ͅͅu͕͒ͭ̏ ̗͖̘̋̑ͣ̀͐̈́w͇ͪ͗̅̎ͬ̌ͭā̺̣̩̹̋̔̌̂ͨ̈́ṉ̳͓̥͍̲̳̀ͫ͛̑t͇̩͖͕̓!”_

_Athena paced furiously back and forth across the small seminar room where she and Hades were spending the recess whilst Lahabrea addressed the general public and relayed to them the grim news. They were both frayed by the approach of the beasts and the need to enact a plan—more cities were falling, and they couldn’t send aid without thinning their resources to save Amaurot..._

_“And what would_ **_you_** _know about nuance? You merely mend that which already exists!”_

_She stopped in her tracks and looked to Hades, her mouth agape. The stress was getting to him—it was getting to all of them—but he had not once spoken to her with such a pointedly patronizing tone._

_“How could you say that, Hades? Have I fallen so low in your eyes?”_

_“Y̨o̧úr͢ ͘ide͢a̵l̡is̴m̧ wil҉l̴ ̢o̢nly ̀e̸nsúre t͝h̕e̢ ̴dow͘nf́a͘ll̨ ͡of ̨this͡ ͝s̴ta̧r̛.”_

_“They are made of_ **_f͓̅ͥͮ̓̎̓̍ĕ͚̠̞͕͖̥̯a͖̗̰̬͙̰͑̂r̯͎̭̃̈́͋_** _, Hades! Fear that we as a people have pushed out of mind! You felt it—_ **_you felt it_** _! To face them—i̶͘f̶ ̶ẁ̷͠e ̴́͞f͜͠a̷͝͝c͟͞e̢̡ ͏̧͞t͢͏h͜e f̶̕e̷͞a͏́͡r̀̀—”_

_“Has that wound driven you mad?” Hades asked in disbelief. “You are of the Convocation—y̤̱̤͊̇ͪͦ͑ͬ̌o̱͋̋̒u͗͛ ̽̑ͦͩͮà̹͈̙̞͐͆ͅr͚̞̍ê̠̰̯ͨ̂͗͋ͤ̃ ̬̙̻̣̹̻̿s͕̱ͮ̏̌ḿ͖̩̮̟̹͍̝ͯ̃͋͛ͤa͍͎̣̩͍͉ͮ͗̍̒̓̈̆r̩͇̲̝̙͐ͯt̔̽ͤ̍̃͗ͪě͈͎̙̠̗̺͇ͣ̐͑͌̚r̺̿ ͍̯̰͇͙ͅṭ̯͂̐͊̄̍ͪḧ͓͙̲̬͖́͋ͣa̲̟͈͙̔nͦ͐̌͂ͭ̈̓ ̥̲͉͗t͔̠ͫ͐ͮͣͧh͑̆i͖ͥ̋ͤͯ̓̐ͮs͉͇͎͉͇̙̍͊̊ͦ̿͌,̯͖̲͍͐͊ ̩̤͂A̹̱̳̪̤ͩͮt̟͍̩̙ͭͨ̌̋ͅḧͨ̌̒̅̈e͊̈n̪̹̺͕̺ͫ̓̽̄̉̊̄a̟̜̼͚̜!”_

* * *

_The Convocation had all but stopped listening to anything Athena had to say._

_T̢he̕y ̢mea̢n̛t҉ to s̡u̡mmon͝ a̧ ̀god. _

_T̶̨h̀e̢y̷͢ ̕m̴e͘an̶t͝͞ ̀to̸ ͠͠s̛̛u͘m͝mo̵n̛͠ ̸̨̡Z̷̴̵od͟i҉ar̕͢k._

_They wouldn’t hear her pleas about the nuance—they meant to sacrifice half their population to summon a_ **_god_** _, with all the baggage which would come along with it—and though she could see that Halmarut, Igeyorhm, and Loghrif shared her misgivings, th͜e̵y ́had ̶o̶bviously c̶o҉nc̡l̨u̡de͏d͏ that ͏Zo͟dìa̧r͢ķ wa̢s̨ ̕theiŕ best̛ opt̛i҉on…_

_“If you will not stand with us, Fandaniel,” Elidibus said after Athena’s latest attempt to interject, “t̪̞̬̊̐̑h̓̂e͍̯̓͐ͧ̾n̼̩͕̈̚ ̘͖̐̅͌͗͆̚ẏ̝̣̺̮̺o̬̮̫͛ͯ̌u̱̱ ̝̗̞̇̆̎m̼͕͙̃͆a̫̖͍ͪ̅̈ͬ͑y͎̠ͭ͊ͯ ͈̦̥͖͖ͦͨͧ̿͛̂v̔̈a̪̝ͣ̉̑c̜̥̜̾̏̌a̲ͨt͑̾̆̅͗̒ͯe͎̤̙̹͇͍̹͋͌ ͖͖͕͖̓y̭̲͔̣̮̓̇o͚̭̘̲̭̝̓ͤͦ͐̉ṳ̲͍͓̠̻́̉r͖̲̖̭̫̞̿́̀̿ͭ̿̐ ͈̗̘͉̎̉ͯ̄s̱͔̺͊̿̀e͓ạ̭̖͈ͩ͊ͭt͉̹͖. We have reached consensus, and we proceed with or without you.”_

* * *

_During another recess, she had gone to check the Bureau and found Euneas waiting in her office, biting his nails in his worry._

_“Is it true? Are you resigning?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before she could even express surprise at his presence._

_A͡t͟h̀en͝ą śig̀h͘e҉d̀ ́a͘nd bo̢wed ́h̀e̷r̛ ͞hȩa̷d͝._

_“What do you think of their proposal, Euneas?” she asked._

_“I don’t often doubt the Convocation, Conservator, but...” He trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “My personal opinion is that the entire idea is mad.”_

_“Ás ís͝ mine. ̀B̀ut th͠e̶y pr͠oc͏e̷ed ̢reģa̧ŗdle̡s͟s̨.”_

_“The Bureau stands with you, Conservator,” Euneas said firmly. “There will still be half the city in need of protection, and we can’t do it without you. Fȃ͚͍̘̜̭̫̓̀̚n̜̤̻̿̔ͫ̌̆͌d̹̙̯̦̖̎͆a̠̟̬̞͖͎ͧ̑̽͒ͪ́n̥̖̥̬͇̟̆͐i̥̻̹̅̎̄̑͊͂̚e̫̓̄ͪͯl ̭̳͍͈̤̜̜ő̝͓̜͕̊̿r̤̚ ̗̪͖͐͊͋n͓͛o̯͓̩̩̐̆͑̆̽̋̃t̎̊̊.”_

* * *

_“I’m begging you—t̍͊̑͐͋ͪͯh̽i̮͈̜͎͑̉̋ͩ̅̇̎s̲̙̩͕͔ͨͨͤͅ ̲͔̖̂ͤ̒ͫͨ̊̆i̗͕̝̼͔̒ͨ͗ͅͅs͕̻̻̯̞͚̜ͬ͐ ͓̭̘̉͆̾a͐ͫ̃́ ̤̠̱͈͛m̘̲̥̹̼͙̓̆̍ͮ̑ͅì̺͒̾ͯ͌̒͛š̠͈t̥͇̘̣̻ȃ̜͉̗͔͚̭̞̅̆k̠̜͈̬̲̠͌̓̊̋̽̾͛e̱̲̠ͅ! To create something so far removed—”_

_“A̳̤̭͎ͣͪt̙͔ͅh͈͔̳̭̪͛͆e̝̟̝͐n̉̑̍ͯ̓å̲̩̥͈̜̬̇̓̽͊̈! Your arguments have already been found wanting!” Lahabrea snapped, slamming his fist on the lectern. “If you do not stand with us, then it is time you left.”_

_The sound of her name on his lips was wholly unexpected and felt as a punch to the gut—she was so startled by the brazen disrespect that she could only stare in stunned disbelief. _

_For Lahabrea to drop her title…_

_It̡ ͘was͢ c͘le҉a͏ŕ h͢e ̷n͜o̸ l̨onge̸r co̧nside͏r̶ed ͘hȩr ̕of͡ ͝t͠he C͝onvoc͞a͞t͡i͘o̕n._

_She looked to Halmarut and Igeyohrm, their eyes carefully averted—_

_She looked to Loghrif, his head bowed—_

  
  


_She looked to Hades, sitting motionless and impassive—shę k̡ne̕w͢ ́he ͘co͘u̴ld͘ ͡s̕èé th҉e͝ pl̷eà ̴f͡ór h̴elp in ̛h͟er̵ ́soųl͏—she knew he meant to continue, whether or not she came along—_

  
  


_She raised her fingers to her mask and slowly pulled it from her face._

_“Then͝ I ̡h͞ereb̨y͘ ̷s̀t̷èp ͟dówn̵ from͘ ̴the̛ sea̕t ̴o̸f Fa͡n͟da͘ni͏el ̨o̶f tḩe҉ Con̡voca̡ti͡on͟ of̢ F҉o̷u̸rt̶e̷en.”_

_And as she set her mask on the table, she looked to Hades one last time in the hopes that he might object—_

_H͓͇̘̖͎̀͐̏ͥǐͯ̐̒s̞̗͌ ͗͗̉s̮̖̓̇͌ͨ͑î̬͆ͬḷ͕̣̠̠̬͍̾̍e̳̎̽́͒͂̄n̑̔̋c͓̬̹͕̲̣̹͊̀͋̌ͯe͍̩̝̯̮̻̍ͪͯͨͣ ͕̥̪̋̀ͬͫ͆̚w̟̏͐͒̐ͯa͉̯͍̮̹̽̒͊̃̆ͅs͇̪͎͔̯̥̏ͣ̉͋̎͛̚ ̌͗ͤͩ̏å̲̏̇l͈̙͇̯̟͔̀lͭ͗ ̗̺ͪ͐̆̓͊ͅs̾̇h̘ͭͭͥͮ̉ͤ͛e͉͚͍̭̞̜͂͋̉̏̈͌̑ͅ ̗̗̻͕̹͚͂͛̉͒ͫ͐͂ñ̩͉̅e̠ͮë̠́͂ͣ͂̎̅ͪd̍ͪͪḛ̳̻̬̞̀́ͪd̼̼̾̾̓̒̓̐͌ ͖̠͙̬̲ͮ̎͑͆t͓̖̹̪̗̮̤̽̈́̅̎͒o̫͒ͩ́̉̚ ̔͂k͐̓̿̋n͔̘̫͎͙͕͙̎ͫ̌̐͌o̘̅ͨ̉ͨ͗̊w̺̮̥̼̣͕̣ͩ̓̄̏̌._

* * *

_The star was breaking apart—great chunks of earth had lifted from the surface and the purplish void ̴of͟ t̀h͟e en̕d spread across the sky and it flashed with otherworldly hues as it c̷r̕͟a̕c̛k̡͝ed̨͜͏ ̧a͟n̷d ćr͏̸a̷̕c͢ķ͡͡e̢̕d͡ ̴̨́an̸d͠͞ ͟c̛͡r̴a̴̡cked̨͜—_

_Her people had saved who they could but half of Amaurot wasn’t enough to push it back—they could not hold the city together—they could not hold the star together—alone, it was too much to grasp—alone, they could not hold it—a̶̶l̵͜oń͏e̷,҉ ́t̛h͢è̵ỳ ̡̕͜n̵̷͡ev̵̧̀ȩ͘r ̷̸͠coul̡͢͢ḑ ͏h̵̨̨à̸v͘̕e—_

_An ear-shattering shriek rent the air—rent their bodies—rent their souls—_

_It seemed to rend reality itself—_

_And from everything and nothing a form congealed in the shattered sky—_

_From everything and nothing, somehow both infinite and infinitesimal—_

_F̎̾̾̓̌ͨrͨͧ͛̄͒̑͛ȯ̽mͯ̏ ́̑e̾͆̑̌̈́̎v̽̃̆̽ͨͥ͒̚ĕͦ̾̈́ͭ͌r̐̀͑ͦͪ̓y̓t̒̀h̉͒̿̔iͧ̎n̔̐̚g̊̈̇ ̊̈́̅͐̽a͒ͬ̏n̅̈dͨͫͨͥ͑ͯ̋̚ ̒̋ͭ̔͛̂̒ͪ͂nͫͭ̈̇̔ͧoͨtͤ̂͐̀ͧḧ́ͪ̾̀ͦ͛͋ͮi͗͂̋n͑̔́̃̂̃̉ǵ̋ͨͭ̄,̒͐͗̋͒ͦ̐ ͑̍͆̾̚Z͗̓ͩ̽̓͛ͨȏ̏ͪ̔̊͂̂d̋͋i͋ͫ̿̌̔ͩ̑̈̀a͒͛̈ͧ̀ͩ̚r̀kͯ͂ ̆͋̅̾ͩ́̾tͩ͑̿̉̌̿̆͒̏o͛̓̀̒̎ͨͣȏ̽ͦ̒͐ͩkͥ̆ ͑̓̐̔̆̽ͬ̑̚s̎͂͗͌ͮͨ͛͛h͐͑̃̑ͥ̌̈aͪͩp̃̐ͯ̉̽͒́ͯe͆ͭ͐ ͗a̓nͩͥ̽ͬ̑̉d͌͆̍̊̈́̚ ̿̈͛ͭ̇̍ͭ́r͂ͦ̽̽̆́͊ê͆́ͫ̌͌͂̚a͂̋̽r͐eͫͣͯ̂̀͛͑̀ͩd̂̉ͮͩ ͣ̑uͤ͗̎̓ṕ̈́ ͗ͣ̌i͑̂̎̊̾̂ͪ̚n͊̉͛ͪ̅̾̆ ͊͐ͧͣt̾̑ͨhͧ̿ͭͮ̓̄͌eͩ̓ͭ ͬͨ̓̾͂͌sͨͤ̊̚k̅͗̒̏y͛ͫ—_

_There was another soul-rending shriek and the star churned and twisted—the gaping cracks of their doom hidden and obscured as the shape of reality knotted a million times over—_

_There were screams from her people and from the beasts and from the very star itself—_

_And́ ͢t͢hen ̷th͟e̵re was ͘silènce._

* * *

_The land was dead_

_The land was dead and th̴ęir m͢a͟gic ̢c̶ou͝l̶d̨ ̶no̷t b͢r̸ȩat̵hè l̵i̕f̧e͠ ͘into͡ ̴i͘t̵_

_The land was dead and t̨hey͝ faced ͞à ͜nèw ̧k͘in͜d ̡of̶ ̛d̸oom _

_The land was dead and th̵ey tuŗned o̧nc̶e ̵m̸or҉e to͟ ͞t̢h͢e ̨g̵oḑ towe͠ri̢ng ov͝er̶ ̀thé ̛l͞and_

_and she watched as another half offered their lives_

_and she watched as Z̝̹̘͈̖ͥ̾̉ͥͥo̜̯̱̔̄̽̚d͍͆̒̾ͨͅi̯̲̖̟͖͍͋͑̽̿å̫̯̪̳̘̯̖̌̑͐ȑ̥͍ͩͭͮͨ̒k͔̟͂̃ ̈t̺̗̗̣̤̲̋͂ͩo͋ͩoͤ́̀k̮̤̦ ͔̣t͇ͮͨ̓ͬ͆ͥ̚h̼͕̤͉͈̹ͭ͑ͫͫem͖̲͗͑͆̐_

_and she cried_

_she cried_

* * *

_A new sort of life emerged_

_They were a grotesque facsimile of what life once was—they were small, misshapen, weak—_

_They were terrified by this sudden existence but they tried to survive because it was all they knew—_

_They fought and stole and killed and hurt and cried and helped and cared and loved—_

_It wasn’t their fault_

_I̢t̸ ̢͜wa̷͡sn͘'͘t̛̀ ̵̡͜th̸e͘ir͢ f̕a͘͢u̵l̶̨t̴ _

* * *

_She and her people tried to limit their interactions with the life born of Zodiark—she found they were often sweet and gracious when treated as such but t͞h͞e͢ir͢ ad̛o̢ration ͟o͡f th̷e̸ A̢m͏auro̡ti͞nes͢ ͢ḿad͘e h́er͘ ͜unc̸o̡m͞f̛or̸t͜ab͜l͢e͟—_

_Regardless, she and what remained of her Bureau tried to keep them safe from the dangers born in Zodiark’s new world_

_They deserved that much, didn’t they?_

* * *

_The Convocation was not happy to rest with the life given to them by their Lord—_

_T̸h̶ey ̵wi͞s͜h̕e͢d͏ t̶o r̵et͞urn̛ ͢their͡ ͠s̵a̡c͟rįf҉ice͝d̷ ̨brethren̶, and they meant to offer the life now thriving on the star to the Lord who had already taken so much—_

_She and those of similar mind protested—it wasn’t fair to take them—it wasn’t fair to raise them for slaughter—_

_And for once their people stood d̴́͠i̛͟v̶i͡d̵͘é̀d_

* * *

_She couldn’t reach them—they wouldn’t listen—they spoke to her as they spoke to her the day she stepped down—_

_Within her, they saw what could have been—within her, they saw ex̟̱͖̥͂ͩ͋t͇͙̙̺͛̈ͩ̊̀ͦ͑ͅi͎̙̤n͂c͎͈ͪt̙̥̪͕̤̟̑i̹o͕̱̣͈͔͊ͤͥͩn͚͙̻͔̼̾̃ͭͧͭ̃—_

_They saw an ex̟̱͖̥͂ͩ͋t͇͙̙̺͛̈ͩ̊̀ͦ͑ͅi͎̙̤n͂c͎͈ͪt̙̥̪͕̤̟̑i̹o͕̱̣͈͔͊ͤͥͩn͚͙̻͔̼̾̃ͭͧͭ̃ which was averted by the grace of their Lord—_

_And eventually they wouldn’t speak to her at all_

* * *

_It wasn’t long before she and her followers were unwelcome in the city_

_They left to live elsewhere, though she and what remained of her Bureau had contacts who could keep them abreast of the Convocation’s plans, and a question soon loomed over them—_

_Were̢ the̕y ̕turn͟i͡ng̀ ͢t̸h͠e͢ir b̸a̧cks ͠on͝ the̷i͞r ̕pe͢o͡ple̶ by fighting̛ ͠to ͜p̨r͡o̷tec͡t͞ tho͞se ̕l̢i͟v̴es b́ein̴g ́r͏aised͠ fo̧r h̛ar̶v͞es̨t҉?_

* * *

_She leaned back against a tree along the edge of a cliff, breathing in the mountain air—i̸t͢ ͘di͡d͡n͏'t sm͠ell҉ quite̴ r͜i̧gh̴t̕ but it was still calming in a way—it was the closest she could get to calming these days…_

_“Athena.”_

_It had been years and years and years since she heard her true name—she quickly turned and peered around the tree to see who dared to utter it._

_Her heart all but stopped in her chest._

_“H̰͆̋̃̇̓͂ͦa̬̜͛̐͌̑d͕̲e̝̖̭̻̥̼̩ͥs̻̹̯͚̓͛̔́̒,” she breathed._

_It was Hades—his shape and his face and his soul—_

_But it also wasn’t. _

_Though he yet bore the mask of Emet-Selch, his robes were not the familiar robes of the Convocation; sinister spikes adorned his shoulders and long, pointed claws extended from his fingers—_

_She had suspected there was something odd about the Convocation, and here—the closest she had been to him in years and years and years—she could see that within him there was something else—something unfamiliar—so̙͔̲̗̤̣̟̒͐mȅ͔̭ͪ̉͌͑t̗̳̏h̲̺ͅi͚̦̞̓̆͑ͅn̙̣̦̪͍̜͈͆͒͒̋ͦ̎g̤ ͚ͪw̲͔̯̮̫͗̌r̬̩̹̫̜̽ͣ͆ͩ̒o̬̦̹̣͎̠͋ͤͅn̯̻̣̦̳̔͂̇̍̏̎g͒͐̚—_

_And yet the sight of him reminded her of the profound ache within her—though she felt a deep hurt whenever she thought of him, she had still deeply, deeply missed him—_

_He approached, slowly but not hesitantly._

_“How did you find me?” she whispered when he stood before her._

_Her heart was pounding in her chest._

_“I received news that you were in the area, so I came to search for you.” _

_He brought a clawed hand to his mask and pulled it away, and she felt a pang in her chest at the sight of him, at the sight of his eyes—he was so weary, so much wearier than she had ever known him—and in his eyes, she could feel the_ **_sô̯̦͉͇m̟̰̑̐e̗̖̻̩̳̦͇̓͊͋͗t̥̉̐̍̅̇͗̚h̼̯̪͚̊̿͂̽i̜̟̭̭̻̔͌ͦ̾̾̌nͫ̋ͮg̬̺̲͖̱̑ͨ͒ ̦͎͈͕̗é̈l̼̥͍s͈̲͔̣̪̲͓̅̈́̇̄ͩeͩ̒̎_** _hovering just beneath the surface…_

_And he brought his hands to her cheeks and gently pulled her close—she had so longed for his touch and couldn’t bear to resist—he pressed his forehead to hers and they both exhaled at the feel of each other—hesitantly she reached her soul to his to feel the bond they had once shared—_

_There was something else—there was_ **_something else_**_—it was subtle and it was dark and it was insidious and it fel̡t͘ w̵ro͏n͠g ͟ẃith͟i͢n͡ his so̵u͡l—_

_She yelped and recoiled from his hands, her eyes wide with alarm. Hades looked hurt by this—he looked hurt and it was heart-wrenching to see and feel his despair but there was_ **_something else_**_—_

_“What was that?” she asked, her brow furrowed._

_He seemed confused by her question. _

_“What was what?”_

_Dread filled her. She didn’t know how to tell him about the_ **_something else_** _o̢r ͝íf ͢i̡t́ was e͟v҉en̶ ́s̢af̵e to do̢ ̛şo…_

_When he realized that she wasn’t about to elaborate—that she couldn’t—he held out a hand toward her._

_“Come back with me and stop this madness, Athena. Stand with us,” he said. His expression softened, and there was a glimmer of hope in his tired eyes. “I would be better for your presence.”_

_His face slowly fell as her silence only continued. _

_“Soon, the star will be ready and we shall have our people back—all who gave their lives to save our star,” Hades said. “All will soon be as it was. We ca͏͟n̕ d͝ò͟͢ i̶͘t̢̕ ̛t̸͟o̢͢͞g҉͢é͢͜t̷̨her͠͞.”_

_She stepped back with a shake of her head._

_“No—no, I can’t support that. I won’t.”_

_A shadow of resentment colored his face._

_“Th̀a͜t͝ ͏f͘lawȩd̛ ̕l͘i̛f̵e ́i̷s ̡unw̶orthy͜ ̧of ͠ou͢r͏ ͡star,” he said._

_“They live, and they are worthy,” she said, clenching a fist. “We’ve lost so much to Zodiark already and I’ll not allow them to be taken so long as I still stand.”_

_He narrowed his eyes. “You would protect_ **_them_** _over the return of our friends? Our loved ones?”_

_“They don’t deserve what you’re going to do to them.”_

_He looked disgusted by her words._

_“They are hardly worth your consideration—they are hardly worth consideration as life at all.”_

_In this moment, she could see she would not be able to sway him—_

_In this moment, she could see the_ **_something else_**_—_

_I̹̰̬͚n͕̜̗̹ ̺̜ͤ̀̉̾̑̾ͧt̠̜̹̲̠̙̖͆ͪ̃h̉͑ͪ̓̀i̫̰ͯs̺̟̯͂̔ͨ̽ͬͩ ̪̪͔̤m̜͐̆͗̿̾o̻̿̈ͧm̘ͬ̆̽̃ͨ̃e̗̖̳̞̲̭nͪ̇̔̚t͕̲ͣͧ̃̈́,̺ͤ̌̿ ̎ͣ̈̆h͚e͈͎̫̐ͣr̲̱͉̩̽ͣ̆̚ ̭̳͚͕ͦ̏̓h̋̇́̒̄̔̚e̱͈͚͔͔ar͙̪̞̘ͪ͋ͩ͐̂ͦ̒t̞̼͈͔̅͌͛̈́ ͓̣̩̬͖̟͍̄̀̈́͆s̙͇̭̘̪̲ͅp̎̏̚l̰̣̯̳̪̥̩͌͌ͯͯ͑i͉̼͚̐ͯ͊ͮ̄́ͥt̻͈̯͚—_

_“It won’t work the way you want, Emet-Selch.”_

* * *

_She and what remained of her Bureau—only twelve of them now—desperately considered their options—_

_To fight the Convocation would be to draw the ire of their people_

_To fight the Convocation would be to draw the ire of the god they served_

_And then they wondered—_

_I̧f ̡the̕y m̕ea͞nt to ͡t͢h̛ro͞w ͢t̡h̢eiŕ l̵ives aw̧ay in t̴h͝e e͠nd͠, ̢t̨h̵ey ẁo͘nd͡e͞re̶d i͜f ̧th͜e͢y͝ mi̷g̕ht͞ ͝f̵igh͟t ̷Zod͠i̢a̴rk̴ H́i͠m͘self͞_

* * *

_The Convocation began their prayers sooner than expected, and the only plan they had which had any chance of succeeding was to fight fire with fire—_

_She and her twelve wept as their followers offered up their lives—_

_She and her twelve wept as they prayed with a nuance clearly in mind—_

_They wept as they prayed not for a god but for strength which would allow them to stand against one—_

_They wept as they prayed not for a god but for the strength to_ **_stop Zodiark_**_—_

_They wept and their tears glimmered as the souls of their friends dissolved along with their whispered goodbyes—_

  
  


_And there was a soul-rending shriek—as̀hri҉ek̡ ͠o̕f̸ ̵man͡y͏ ̨vơi͏c͜és tha̶t soon̨ męr͞ge̶d ̵a͢s ͠one—_

  
  


_From everything and nothing, their strength emerged—_

_From everything and nothing, the answer emerged—_

_F̣̠ͭ̉̆̉̈r̭̜̩̉̄͗̈́o͙̼͌̿̍ͫ̚m͓̥̖͍ͪ͒̿ ͊ͨ͆̏ẽ͊̍͛̐v͈̯̟͍ͥ͛ḛ̺͇̲͍̫̆̄̃̆ͦͨ̎ṛ͊̿ͫͬy͍̘̪̯̯͑͊t̪͍̯̥̹͔ͯͭ͂h͓͚͛̈́̓ͮ̽̚i̥ͬͨ̌̐ͫñ̥̱̺̺̝͔ͮͭ͋̿ͣg͆ͬ̌ͤ̅̍ ͭ̃a͖̝͂͋̏ͨ͋n͈̪̯̤͙d̅ͫͥͯ̚ ͔̥̯̝n̻̖̙̖̓̌̉̊̐́̈ͅo̍t͉̲̜̞h̪͐ͥͭͨͯͦ̎i̹̋̅ͣ̄͂̚n̪̎̔ͅg͈̬̻̥͙͓̀ͭ̑́,̻̰͋, Hydaelyn ̘̇͑̐͂ē̳̘̫̘͕̤̩͑m̺̘̯͓͉͕͈̅̄ĕ̟͉̗̱̪͒ͦ͛ͅṛ͉͔̳̈͆̓ͨ̇g͕̗ͦ̍̐͐̄ͥ͒ë̟̹ͅd̹̳ͮͩ̆̐ͣ̈—_

  
  


_They wept as they marched for Zodiark under Her Light—_

_They wept as their souls glimmered and shone as one—_

_And Zodiark and Hydaelyn clashed—and they clashed—and they clashed—_

_And the thirteen of them leapt in to fight when the Convocation tried to help their god—_

_And with each blow to Zodiark, reality twisted and rippled and distorted and was soon too unstable for them to even see who was who—_

_An͜d so͠o̸n ͞t͘h͠ey ͟w̧e̶rȩ d҉e̵s͝pera͟tely ̶tra̷di̧n̵g͟ b͜lows̷ ͢w̶iţh índ̴ìstinct ͘da҉ngeroús̀ ̕sh҉apes and they knew not if the blows were even reaching—_

  
  
  


_And there was a h͚̳̱̦̩ͩͫọ̥̿r̗͌̐̊ͮͩ̋̾r͖̜̻ͭ͐̄͌i̭͇͌ͫ̊͛ͮ̇̊ͅf̠͚̹͍i̠̜̟̭͉̩̦c͗ͫ̾̍̈̊̅ ̳̹̞͈̰̑ͮ͌̇sͨ͌̏͆ͥc̪̭͈͈̦̓͋ͭͥ͐̇r̫̗̬e̙̩̜͕̖̿ͤa͈͂ͪͥm̜͈ͮ͗̃ͥ͐ from the depths of everything—_

  
  


_Shapes slipped between the folds of reality into the space between—_

  
  


_And reality c͢r̕ac͜k̨e̴d_  
  
  


_ And reality sp̕l̷int̷ȩr̨eḑ_

  
  
  


_and with one last blow_

  
  
  


r̲̪͍͒e̖̹͍̳͓̦͑͋̾̈͛̃̏a͕̱͚͉̞͙̟̋ͨͩ͂̋ͣl̻͂̐ͅi̞͓̬̟ͬ̒t̬̤̱̱ͅy̤̼ ̞͔̪̺ͮͥ̀i̞̟̰̥̒̇̂̋̅͂t̗͖ͨͩ̈ͩ͆s̳̹͖̾͑̈͑́ͧ͐e͔̙͙͕̤͍͂̚l͙̯̮ͨ̃ͣ̏͆̑f͛̓̇̓͆́̄ͅ ̞͓̹̪̻͇̯̇̑͑̄̐̉w̞̞͙͈̋̂͆a͉̠̺̞̬͒̑s͉̰̘̼̏ ̞̫̪ͅs͍͍̿̄̎̉̀ͫͭuͥͧ̔ͯͣͯn͈̗̟̯̺̣ͫ̓d̘e͖̿̚ṙ̯̉̇͛ͪ̅e̦̼̼͉̬̿͐ͧ̿d̥̰ͪ̑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: shit's fucked**
> 
> ngl i was losing it toward the end and was like _"shit is this even good anymore ohgod i've fucked up somehow but idk how"_
> 
> thanks for reading my fuck-ups, all! i love all of you <3 <3


	18. After Everything

From the darkness between the Sundering, a voice called.

  
  


From the darkness of the abyss, a voice called.

  
  


To the fragments at the precipice, a voice called.

  
  


“_Witness me, Hades._”

  
  


He opened his eyes and found himself aglow with the Light of Hydaelyn.

And in this abyss, above the glyph of the Mother, the Oracle floated before him with her eyes aglow.

  
  


The Scions and the Crystal Exarch stood behind her, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

  
  
  


And in the center floated the Fourteenth—  
Fandaniel—  
Athena—  
Annaiette—

  
  
  


_ his love._

  
  
  
  


His heart—if he had one in this abyss—stopped at the sight of her: the glow of her soul shone brightly in Hydaelyn’s Light, but her form was of nine translucent bodies superimposed and aligned over each other, and all hanging unconscious in the air. He saw the Elezen form of Annaiette and the Hyur form of Ardbert flickering in the jumble, joined by an assortment of unfamiliar bodies, all ranging from Lalafell to Roegadyn.

  
  


And from his chest, a delicate thread of white light extended to each one.

  
  


“_Thank you, Hades, for mending my Champion_.” 

  
  


The Oracle spoke, and her voice seemed to reverberate from her mouth.

  
  


From the abyss, he found his voice.

  
  


“What is this?” he asked, gesturing with a glowing hand to the white threads extending from his chest.

The Oracle—or Hydaelyn, through the Oracle’s voice and body—looked apologetic.

“_I told thee but a single lie, and for that I apologize_,” She said. Hades furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What?”

“_When first we spoke, when thy soul was scattering into oblivion, I told thee thus: that in shattering thee, my Champion tore open a hole which allowed a tether to form with the Source and its Reflections_.” She turned in the air and gestured to the amalgamation of people. “_In truth, when thy soul was shattered, it tore away the temperance which all but smothered the bond once shared between thee. It was this bond which allowed me to pull thy soul from oblivion._”

Though he was quite sure his glowing form had no heart, it felt as though something was pounding in his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he choked—and though he was quite sure his current form had no tears and no lungs, he felt the urge to sob.

“_Truthfully, I feared that should I make Athena’s fragments within my Champion known, thou wouldst quickly seek to snuff Annaiette out in favor of Athena_,” She said, and She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “_My Champion hath suffered enough cruelty by thy hands, and I did not wish to invite more._”

  
  


Hydaelyn’s words were calm, level—and yet they cut through his soul all the same.

He thought of all he had done to Annaiette—

He thought of his state of mind at the moment of his summary defeat—

  
  


And he could only nod and hang his head in shame.

  
  


“Did—did you mean to show us this?” came the Exarch’s voice. Hades glanced past the Oracle to find the Exarch stepping forward with confusion, with concern. “Did you mean to show us her memories of Zodiark—of the Sundering?”

The Oracle turned to the Exarch with a nod, and a thin smile appeared on Her face.

“_The story of Zodiark and His creation was made known by Hades—one half of the whole. Not once have I been afforded the chance to tell my story—to tell_ ** _our_ ** _story—to those without my Blessing. And though the restoration of my Champion was ever the intent, the opportunity could not be wasted._”

Thancred stepped forward with a scowl. “What about Ryne? What becomes of her?” he demanded.

“_Fear not, dear Thancred. I had need of her voice, and only her voice. She will be returned unharmed and whole._” 

She turned back to Hades, and the smile remained.

“_By thy deeds, Hades, my Champion is restored. My power wanes and thus thy vessel was lacking, but thou didst persevere and for that I am grateful,_” She continued, putting a hand over Her heart. She tipped Her head slightly in Her gratitude before holding a hand out toward him. “_Though our bargain is now fulfilled, I offer thee one last gift. I hath not the strength to return the power of Creation, but shouldst thou wish, the vessel bequeathed for thy task shall belong to thee._”

He looked to Her in numb disbelief.

The weight of Hydaelyn’s last gift—the enormity of it—

One last gift offered to a servant of Her mortal enemy—

One last gift so generous that he waited for the conditions—for the rub—

  
  


None came.

None came, and She waited patiently for his response.

  
  


But he looked to all the sundered fragments of Athena that made up Annaiette—

And he thought of all he had done before the End—

And he thought of all he had done after the End—

  
  


And he thought of all the ruin brought upon innocents—

And he thought of all the suffering wrought by his hands—

And he thought of all the blood spilled in the name of his god—

  
  
  


In Hydaelyn’s Light it was clear

all his regrets

  
  


all his deeds

  
  
  


all his sins 

  
  
  
  


all were  
unforgivable. 

  
  
  
  


Hades shut his eyes and shook his head.

  
  
  


“No, I—I don’t deserve it.”

  
  


Though this form had no lungs,  
he stifled a sob.

  
  
  


“Just let me die, Hydaelyn.”

  
  
  


Though this form had no tears,  
warm motes of light gathered in the corners of his eyes.

  
  


“_If that is thy wish, then it will be done._”

  
  


He opened his eyes and the glowing motes of light drifted gently from his face.

  
  


He looked from the Scions as their confusion only grew—  
  
and he looked to the Oracle—to Hydaelyn—who somehow looked pitying—

and he looked to the nine forms slowly waking in the center of the glyph—  
and to the soul within them that he so loved—  
and to the soul within them that he hurt so deeply—

he exhaled and  
he nodded.

  
  


“It is.”

  
  


The Oracle nodded in turn.

  
  


“_Then so it shall be. Farewell, Hades._”

  
  


And with Hydaelyn’s words—  
as the Mothercrystal’s farewell faded—

so too did he feel his soul begin to fade and separate—

  
  


“_Wait._”

  
  


nine voices speaking as one—

nine voices, disparate, but nine voices somehow harmonizing—

nine voices disparate but as one they harmonized and he heard a voice he thought lost to the depths of memory—

  
  


“_Wait—Emet-Selch, wait—!”_

  
  


And though it was not full—though it was still lacking—it was there and it was clear—

Athena’s voice rang out from the nine echoes of her shards.

  
  


And he felt a tug—he felt a tug in the pieces of his soul drifting out into the abyss—

he felt a tug and the nine translucent forms stumbled forward to pull him in—

  
  


“_Godsdammit, Hades, wait—!_”

  
  


and nine pairs of hands took hold and obstinately held him from oblivion—

and nine fragments of Athena’s soul—angry and desperate and betrayed and despondent

_and pleading_—

_nine fragments, pleading_—

  
  


And where they intersected, he saw a glimmer of Athena—  
he saw a glimmer of her form—

  
of her face—

  
  


“_Stop doing this to me, Hades. Please_,” said Athena through the nine voices in the nine fragments as they held his soul tightly.

Hades beheld her and the nine fragments holding him in place—

nine fragments holding him at the precipice—

And after all that he had done—

And after all she had suffered—

More and more motes gathered in his eyes  
and soon he and Athena were lit by the pinpricks of light drifting around them—

  
  


And the incorporeal sob he had been stifling finally broke free.

  
  


“Even now, after everything, how can you bear to look at me?” Hades sobbed. “After everything I’ve said—everything I’ve done—”

  
  


They—_she_—only held him tighter.

  
  


“_Yes_, _you’ve done horrible, awful things, but I won’t let you go—not if I can save you._” 

Her face—what he could see of it—was furious and terrified and on the verge of tears but every bit the resolute Conservator of eld.

And the apologies he had held inside—words so, so small compared to his immeasurable crimes that it was an insult to think they were even remotely appropriate—finally spilled forth.

  
  


“I’m sorry—Athena, I’m—I’m so sorry—”

  
  


She pulled his soul further in from the precipice—

She pulled his soul closer.

“_If you’re sorry, then help us fix it_,” she said, her furious gaze piercing through him. “_Help us fix this mess, Hades._”

And as she gathered his soul from the precipice of oblivion—

As she desperately pulled his scattered soul back into place—

As her nine fragments began consolidating—merging—

for one infinitesimal moment Athena’s face became clear before fading away 

and Annaiette soon stood before him, her eyes pleading and full of tears,

  
  


“Please, Hades. I know it won’t be the same but we can at least stand together.”

  
  


Hades looked into the unmistakable hue of her soul and saw the depth of her rage and sorrow and hurt but also the indomitable hope and kindness that so marked the Athena he knew and ached for

  
  


_and loved_

  
  
  


And though his sins were unfathomable,  
and though he knew himself irredeemable,

  
  


_after everything,_

_somehow Athena saw something in him worth protecting_

  
  
  


And in this abyss, with his soul pulled back from oblivion,

aglow with the Light of Hydaelyn,

aglow with the light of Athena’s soul,

  
  


and though he knew it wouldn’t ever be the same,

and that all he had loved would never truly return,

  
  


she thought he was worth saving

  
  


so he had to at least _try_

  
  
  
  
  


He nodded.

  
  
  
  


“_Together this time_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: it won't be the same but that's all right**
> 
> SO UH  
HELLO
> 
> AND THANK YOU FOR STICKING AROUND FOR THE RIDE <3
> 
> PART OF ME WAS LIKE "OK PEOPLE ARE EXPECTING BAD END AND WILL THIS BE TOO CHEESY"
> 
> BUT ALSO THIS IS HOW I WANTED IT TO END SINCE THE BEGINNING
> 
> SO HERE YOU GO
> 
> i have more i want to write, but i think this and maybe one teeny chapter + epilogue more is good for Saudade
> 
> further shenanigans will be in a separate story because they've got a big mess to clean up :)  
and if y'all think they're not still mentally fucked then >:3c
> 
> and again, i'm super grateful and super honored that y'all have stuck around with this story for so long. i appreciate all of you so, so much <3


	19. Relief

The haze of the abyss was gone.

Instead, weight.

Warmth.

He kept his eyes closed for a while longer as the feeling slowly returned to his body, and the sensation of warmth and softness that greeted him was foreign but not unwelcome.

The sound of a page turning.

The shifting of a seat.

These sounds were enough to tip his mind past the boundary of sleep and wakefulness; his eyes fluttered open, and though it was a struggle to keep them open, he saw a blurry shape sitting just within reach.

And though he could not make out the features of this shape, the color of their soul was clear.

Distinct.

And finally—_finally_—he felt it.

It was foreign. It was unfamiliar.

It was a feeling lost to him since the End of their world.

It was a feeling he knew wouldn’t—_couldn’t_—last but he embraced it all the same.

He felt relief.

As his eyes focused, the shape and color became clearer and clearer, and it was with a deep, profound relief that _she_ was here—that she was here and _he_ was here and finally the weight of a thousand thousand years and a thousand thousand misdeeds melted away for one blessed moment of relief—

She looked up from the tome in her lap.

And they met each other’s eyes.

And in hers he saw the same—

In hers he saw relief.

“Hades,” she said. His name in her voice was almost a question, a hesitant and uncertain one which she extended to him.

With this question he realized that after everything, he didn’t know what to call her.

And so he settled on a word that he knew fit her perfectly well.

“Hero.”

She smiled, and though she still looked ill and haggard from the entire harrowing ordeal, the smile told him she was already on the mend.

“I think you get to be the hero this time,” she said. “I’d be dead if not for you. Thank you.”

“You would be a lot of things if not for me.”

But before the monstrous guilt and regret could claw its way out of the back of his mind, she held up a hand.

“Don’t. We can talk about that later.”

Relief.

“What would you like me to call you?” Hades asked.

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I feel strange, and I’m not sure that it’s better than when the memories were leaking through,” she said, and for the first time her smile faltered. “Annaiette was afraid of becoming mere memories in Athena’s head, and in some ways she did. But I don’t feel like Athena, nor do I feel like Annaiette. Nor any of the other fragments within. I don’t know who I am.”

With the way she was Sundered—the way her soul nearly fell to pieces—the way she was realigned—this came as no surprise.

But the color of her soul told him that despite all that, it was still her.

“Why don’t you pick one and see how you feel about it? Or I can just keep calling you ‘hero’ if that’s what you prefer,” Hades said with a thin smile.

Her smile returned and she let out a small snort of amusement as she considered his suggestion.

“As tempting as that sounds...I think I’d like to be Annaiette for a while,” she said hesitantly, as though testing the feel of the name on her tongue. She didn’t appear completely convinced, but she nodded in approval all the same. “Annaiette will do for now.”

Athena’s soul—_Annaiette’s_ soul—twinkled.

“Annaiette,” Hades said, and though she still seemed unconvinced, she smiled a little wider at the sound of it.

A silence fell over them. But it was one that was comfortable, one that was calming.

And here in the silence, he thought on all he had desperately tried to get back—

on all that was never going to be the same—

but he looked to Annaiette’s soul—

different but _still her_—

and though they had their work cut out for them—

though fixing this mess of a thousand thousand years meant letting their old world rest—

that it meant making _something different_—

_not perfect but different_

And without the gnawing presence of Zodiark

and here in this silence with Annaiette, different but still her,

he could see a world where things would be different

and for the first time in a long while,

for the first time in a long while he thought he might feel a sliver of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: need to clean up some bullshit but maybe first some naps**  

> 
> OKAY SO THIS IS SORT OF A TINY EPILOGUE BUT THERE'S ANOTHER SMALL ONE COMING, AND THEN I'LL BE MARKING THIS AS COMPLETE AND MOVING ONTO A SEPARATE ONE TO CONTINUE THE SHENANIGANS :D
> 
> maybe even 2-3 separate ones???
> 
> one for the continuation  
one for pre-fall shenanigans  
and maybe one for fuckin crack shit about elidibus
> 
> ONCE AGAIN, THANK YOU ALL FOR READING <3 <3


	20. Epilogue

Two days ago, the Scions had arrived in the Source occupying the bodies that the Warrior of Light had taken through a stable portal at the gates of the Crystal Tower.

And today, after a brief respite to reorient themselves in bodies which had languished for far too long, the Scions and their allies were gathered at the Rising Stones to discuss the current status of their conflict with the Garlean Empire—or rather, the lack thereof, now that Garlemald was in disarray in the absence of Varis and Zenos. But the purpose of the gathering was twofold: they also wished to celebrate the Scions’ return to their bodies and their home, and so Tataru and F’hlaminn had arranged what they claimed was “just a little something” when in truth it was a veritable feast. Ser Aymeric and Lucia, Lyse, Lord Hien and Yugiri, and even Estinien had come for the occasion—interestingly, so too did Gaius Baelsar, who evidently had news he wanted to share in person.

Alisaie stood off to the side with her arms crossed, watching her brother in boredom as he sat with Cid and Nero and recounted the tale of the construction of the giant talos and how it grasped Mt. Gulg with its enormous hands. He had told the story no less than thrice since their arrival back in the Source, and though she was sure his current audience was quite interested, _she_ was weary of the story and for once was eager for the formal meeting to just get started.

But for that, the Warrior of Light would need to be present.

Which she wasn’t.

Annaiette had taken her leave in the morning, saying something or other about wanting to buy fruit in Doma. Alisaie suspected she got distracted—either she was busy sampling street food in the Enclave, or some lazy fool had talked her into doing some inane task for them. She could only hope that her friend wouldn’t turn up covered in mud...or blood...or dung...Regardless, Alisaie was perhaps inordinately excited to see how their friends would react to the Warrior of Light’s arrival. Y’shtola had requested that all be calm when Annaiette arrived, and their friends’ confusion at her request was altogether too amusing; there was going to be real pain and real anger, to be sure, but in spite of all that, Alisaie couldn’t help but eagerly wait and watch. Eagerness over the coming situation was a more tolerable than intense anxiety, besides.

Ten long, long minutes later, the door to the Rising Stones finally swung open to reveal Annaiette, who apologized profusely for her tardiness and somewhat nervously greeted the friends who were overjoyed to see her.

But the smiles on their faces soon froze or faded altogether at the sight of the guest that Annaiette had brought along.

A hush came over the room as all eyes fell on him.

The thin smile on Alisaie’s face slowly spread into a grin, and for a moment she thought perhaps everyone was broken by his arrival, so still and so silent they were.

Then, seemingly all at once, several voices broke the silence:

“_Emperor Solus?!_”

With that, the spell was broken and the silence was replaced by a confused and indignant uproar.

And in the midst of it all with the placid smile that Alisaie knew was hiding his amusement, Hades stepped forward and stood beside an uncharacteristically nervous Annaiette.

“I find that ‘Solus’ no longer suits me now that Hydaelyn has had Her way with me,” Hades said, and Alisaie could hear the carefully controlled glee in his voice. He bowed with a muted flourish of his arm. “The name ‘Hades’ will suffice.”

Everyone looked from Hades to Annaiette—all questioning and all with various levels of indignation. Alisaie absolutely knew she should not be enjoying this as much as she was, and yet here she stood.

“It’s a long story that we can tell later, but for now, know that Hades is here to help us,” said Annaiette, who was clearly unused to having that sort of pointedly questioning gaze directed at her. “He saved my life,” she added quickly when it was clear that nobody was satisfied with that explanation, or lack thereof.

“I’m afraid my knowledge of the inner affairs of Garlemald may be a _little_ outdated due to my prior death, but I’m certain I’ll have something of use,” Hades said with the sort of smile that betrayed his utter enjoyment of the situation.

Lord Hien—the eternally calm Lord Hien—looked ready to tear Hades limb from limb and stood rooted in place only because Yugiri had put a warning hand on his sword arm, whilst Lyse’s fists were tightly clenched and visibly quivering. Gaius appeared ready to fight Lyse and Hien in some sort of compulsive defense of his not-so-dead-after-all Emperor—though even Gaius himself appeared confused at his own actions—and in the midst of it all, Annaiette was frantically trying to non-violently allay their concerns. Hades had the decency to look appropriately penitent but Alisaie knew the bastard was still greatly enjoying himself.

Alisaie had her qualms about introducing Hades in this manner, but Y’shtola and Annaiette had reasonable concerns regarding the secrecy they must needs maintain should they keep their source of information hidden. And they all knew _someone_ would get to the bottom of it eventually, in which case they would have _quite_ a bit of explaining to do. In the end, Annaiette decided that for better or for worse the explaining was best done outright to avoid tainting the trust in the Scions should someone uncover a secret Garlean Emperor in their ranks. It was Hades himself, though, who had suggested this particular entrance in lieu of a staggered introduction to individuals; Alisaie noticed that he was developing a sort of outwardly reckless abandon regarding his now-mortal self, and though she was reasonably sure it was all a façade to cope with the stress of recent events, it made the imminent danger to his life no less real.

She gave a sidelong glance toward her brother, Urianger, and Thancred and found the lot of them wisely keeping their distance from the madness unfolding before them. Perhaps they had the right of it—Annaiette and Y’shtola were more than capable of handling themselves, and if those two couldn’t mitigate this situation then what hope did Alisaie and the others have?

When she turned back to the Warrior of Light, she found that Annaiette was so flustered that her face was beginning to turn red; Alisaie supposed she was used to people being happy that she did something, and here she had presented to them the entire reason the Garlean Empire existed, which was quite an unhappy thing to be doing. It also appeared that the long story she had meant to tell later was, in fact, being told _now_, and as she launched into a _very_ carefully abridged retelling of how she nearly died and lived only with the help of this former Ascian—completely glossing over the fact that it was mostly his fault to begin with—Alisaie crossed her arms and let out the breath she’d been holding in her chest.

It was surreal but also deeply comforting to be back in her own body in a familiar place, watching familiar friends losing their minds over the return of the Emperor. And after all that had happened and all they and their friends and their worlds had obstinately endured, she decided that in the end, she agreed with Annaiette:

That together—_together_—they might truly stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: annaiette has to protect one (1) former garlean emperor from being murdered by various eorzeans for the foreseeable future, which alisaie finds hilarious**
> 
> OKAY FOR REALSIES THIS TIME, THE FIC IS DONE 
> 
> one million million thank yous to all y'all <3
> 
> i really hope the continuation doesn't disappoint ; w ; i'll do my best to keep it entertaining. i've got a bad track record with sequels, but i've also never had this level of support before so i think third time's the charm :D
> 
> and if you want to join an awesome discord with fun fanfic authors who will aggressively love you whether you like it or not, click this lil link here: <https://discord.gg/xqc2Ut5>


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